


Riders of the Storm

by Merenwen76



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Bottom Dean, Con Artists, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Not Related, Show Level Horror, Show level violence, Soulmates, Suspense, Top Sam, powers!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merenwen76/pseuds/Merenwen76
Summary: Jack Kline receives a call for help from his fiancée Jo.  To save her, he sets out to find his father's former friends who have gone their separate ways since his death. And so, little by little, he finds John the warrior, Dean the rogue, and Sam, who is surrounded by mysterious magic. Together, the three of them, with help from Jack, need to learn to become a team again.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline/Jo Harvelle
Comments: 43
Kudos: 85
Collections: Supernatural and J2 Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyncitymojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyncitymojo/gifts), [Theatregirl7299](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatregirl7299/gifts), [Jerzcaligrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerzcaligrl/gifts), [firesign10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/gifts).



> Where should I start? This story wouldn't exist without CyncityMojo. She bid on an auction in favor of Theatregirl7299.  
> And a little idea, a little picture turned into a story that means so incredibly much to me. Thank you very much Cyn for your trust in me.Thanks for the virtual hugs, the support and suggestions in the middle of the night. 
> 
> A thousand kudos to my two adorable Betas Firesign10 and Jerzcaligrl. I'd be lost without you. I owe you so much coffee, foot massage and hugs.
> 
> And also to the rest of my adorable ladies writers group (Jen, Jessie, Theresa, Heather, Patty.) Your encouragement is just wonderful!
> 
> Last but not least, many thanks to m14mouse. That you as an artist decided to do my Big Bang and made this beautiful art for this. You can find her here: https://m14mouse.livejournal.com/93477.html
> 
> Please give her some lovely feedback!
> 
> Title inspired by The doors - “Riders on the storm“.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Sister Ellen walks, thoughts jumbled, down the long, dark corridor that led directly to the altar. Her simple, black shoes make enough noise to echo off the heavy walls of the cathedral. New Orleans may not be cold in January, but the thought of her destination makes her shiver. For a moment she stands before the golden altar, crosses herself, and asks the Lord for forgiveness. She must follow her heart, even if it means her own damnation.

She turns to the left and descends the steps into the lower vault of the Saint Louis Cathedral. No one enters here without permission. She takes every single step of the stone staircase with care. With every step she tries to become calmer, hoping that her rapidly beating heart will not betray her. She walks past sarcophagi, the stone tombs that line her path like a memorial. The mortal remains of chaplains, priests, and unwanted sons of rich families. They all lie united in the silence of the crypt.

She knows every nook and cranny of the cathedral and was present when the large tower clock was festively inaugurated. The first strike of the bell, the feeling of happiness she felt when it rang, ebbed away, and fear and worry spread. Too many changes have happened in the last few months. At first quiet and insignificant, hardly anyone would recognize a connection. But Ellen was not blind, she looked and did not look away. 

She follows the branch of the corridor, as she has done thousands of times before. But this time it is different. This time two guards stand in her way. 

Caught and frightened, she looks down. Avoids any eye contact. "I bring water for the chosen one." She prays, against her better knowledge, that they do not notice her trembling hands. And she must interpret it as the Lord's approval when the guards step aside and clear their path to the door for her. 

The opened door lets light fall into the otherwise dark room. A simple wax candle on an even simpler wooden table is the only source of light.

Ellen carefully places the jug of water on the table. She worries that the worm-eaten wood will no longer be able to hold the weight of the jug.

Fearfully, she glances around the room until she sees the figure lying on the floor. Her eyes are instantly filled with tears, her trembling hand wanders to her mouth to suppress the emerging scream in her throat. Hastily she bends down. Her fingers feel the motionless figure. Jo has always been a petite girl, but she was lightly muscled. Now her body seems weak and pale. Her feet are dirty and covered with dried blood. The leg irons have caused long, festering wounds. The plain, formerly white undergarment is gray and dirty. Carefully Ellen lifts the tortured body, strokes her dirty, dull hair, and whispers into her ear.

"Dear God, what have they done to you?"

A flicker of her eyelids lets her know that Jo is awake. Slowly and clumsily her eyes open and she looks up into Ellen's watery face.

"Shh, don't talk. Save your strength."

But Jo still has the will of ten horses in her. Like the first day when she started as a simple maid at the Archdiocese of New Orleans. She tries to straighten up. Quickly, Ellen runs to the jug, brings it to Jo and carefully lets the water run over her chapped lips. "Not so hasty, just sip by sip." Jo drinks from the cool water, her spirits returning. Her hand holds onto Ellen's dress. Her eyes beg. "Please help me! Please get me out of here." 

Ellen looks anxiously at the door. "Love, I can't do that. How can I do that? It's taken me a lot of trouble to find you."

"They're killing me. Do you hear? There are things happening here that God wouldn't allow. You have to make it stop. Please Sister, I beg you!"

"No one will believe me!"

"Someone will believe you!"

"Who?"

Ellen feels the power leaving Jo's body, she bends over to Jo, her ear pressed directly against her mouth.

"You must notify my fiancé."

"Whom? You know without permission..."

"Love needs no permission Sister . We are meant for each other! He loves me and he needs to know what's happening here. Please, Sister Ellen, please, you must write to him."

"You can't ask me to do this!"

"I must, I have no choice. You're the only one I trust, the only one who cared about me. You`re like a mother to me. I beg you!"

Sister Ellen sighs, the back of her hand cradling Jo's cheek.

"What's his name?"

  
  


When Sister Ellen enters her little bedroom, it is already dark. Physically and mentally exhausted, she sinks down before the simple cross of Jesus. How often has she asked the Lord for guidance and enlightenment here? And right now her heart isespecially heavy. The events of the last two hours lay like a solid weight on her shoulders. What is happening here? It had all started when a new pastor joined her church a few months ago. Father Paul was calm and thoughtful, and has already ingratiated himself within the church. Besides him, Sister Megan also joined the congregation. The rapid rise of the priest was nothing short of amazing. Within a short time he became the advisor, and finally even the right hand of Bishop Vaughn. It was unusual for things to move so quickly in the church.

At the same time misfortunes happened, which in themselves seemed like individual destinies, but in the whole did not make sense. Two influential men of the city council were killed in an accident. A distinguished lady and supporter of the community help organization surprisingly committed suicide. And finally, Father Philip, who, out of nowhere, announced his early retirement, resigning his position as direct advisor to Bishop Vaughn and Father Paul.

A cold shiver runs down her spine. Could all this really be just coincidences?

The candle on the table begins to flicker frantically. And Sister Ellen pauses in her movement. The candlelight from her shadow image under the cross of the Lord flickers and distorts. But it is not hers that frightens her, but the second image that is standing right next to her. Someone is behind her.

Her mouth is dry and her heart is racing. Fearfully she watches the shadow grow larger. She whirls her head around and the jerky movement makes her lose her balance. She falls backwards, still supporting herself with her arms. 

"Father Paul." She is shocked when she sees the person above her.

The priest smiles down at her. "Have I frightened you, my dear?"

"Forgive me, Father. I didn't hear you come in."

"You seemed to be deep in thought."

The priest takes a step back and gives her his hand. His face looks like a waxy grimace in the light of the candle. Sister Ellen feels her stomach clench in fear.

"I hear you visited someone today without discussing it with His Excellency first," he continues.

Hesitantly, Ellen takes his hand. Trying not to let him feel anything of her fear.

"Father Paul, I've just brought her some water. Please forgive my rash actions."

The priest pulls her up so that they face each other. He smiles again. 

"You know that we must help the poor soul. She is confused and lost her way. His Excellency is only doing what he thinks is best to help her."

"Please Father, she is a good person, almost a child. I know she can be quick-tempered and stubborn at times, but she's neither vicious nor a danger.“

"I know Sister Ellen."

He grabs her wrists, holding them together in his hands.

"She is pure and perfect. She will be of great service to us.

You, on the other hand..."

His fingers squeeze her wrists tighter. Ellen tries to squirm free, but she cannot escape the tight grip. She screams out in terror.

"I fear that your services are no longer required.

Give my love to your Creator,  _ if _ you see Him."

Pain flows throughout her body. Heat makes it spread.

Ellen screams in pain as her feet start to burn on their own. 

The acrid smell of burnt flesh rises to her nose. Panicked, she tries to escape Father Paul's hands.

But Father Paul increases the pressure and stares at her, spellbound. Pain drives her almost crazy. Blazing tongues of fire run through her body, turning the flesh black. Father Paul looked on with a distorted grimace, his grin demonic, and in her delusion she believes that his eyes looking down at her are bright yellow.

Before the tempting deliverance of powerlessness haunts her, she prays that the Lord will take care of her soul, and that the letter she secretly sent an hour ago will reach its intended destination.


	2. Chapter 2

It is early afternoon when Jack Kline notices the first farms outside of Lawrence. The fields are covered with a light layer of snow and there is no sign of the farmers themselves. It is not that there is no work. On the contrary, the cattle must continue to be fed, sugar beets are harvested even in winter, and the optimal time for sowing the wheat needs to be determined.

Jack's mare trots calmly and evenly along the straight path that will lead him directly to the small town. From a distance, he can already see the church and the rising smoke from the fireplaces which are warming the living rooms of the inhabitants. Jack longs for their warmth and comfort. He has been on the road for three days. He could have taken a carriage, but that kind of travel would not have been much faster, and above all would have been much more expensive.

The cold wind blows into his face, which is protected only by a linen cloth and his fur cap. His fingers are frozen stiff and he clasps the reins tightly. He feels relief, but also emerging tension as the brown mare passes the first of the houses. With barely eight hundred inhabitants, the city is still under construction, but the hammering of carpenters on the roofs of unfinished houses announces new inhabitants. Jack directs his horse into the middle of the city and heads directly to the saloon, the first place to make contact.

Jack slides down his mare's back, his ass numb and his thighs sore from the long trek. He ties his horse to the hitching post in front of the bar and gives her a slap on the neck. Greedily, she bends down to the watering trough while her warm coat steams in the cold.

With cautious steps, Jack climbs the steps to the entrance of the saloon and walks through the swinging doors.

It is quiet inside.

Just one single person sits at the counter in front of a pitcher of beer. The saloon is bathed in the red light of the setting sun.

In the corner, several men play cards, otherwise most of the inhabitants are still busy with their daily business. Jack approaches the dark, wooden counter and seeks the attention of the bartender.

"What can I bring you, lad? A glass of warm milk?"

The man sitting at the bar laughs out loud and exposes his toothless mouth. Jack tries to stop staring at the man, he doesn’t want to seem rude. He decides to ignore the boyish allusion to his age, he has a more pressing matter.

"Please forgive the interruption, Sir, I'm looking for a Mr. John Winchester."

"You hear that, Pete? The boy calls me Sir !"

"Because he doesn't know you!"

Toothless Pete laughs uproariously, and Jack must suppress a slight gag reflex.

"Please, Sir, it's very important that I find him, I've been on the road for three days straight."

"Mmm,“ the older man behind the counter pretends to think really hard. “How much is this  _ vital _ information worth to you?"

Jack rolls his eyes, because in fact this is the most frequently asked question since he set out to look for John Winchester. 

"Good heavens Jacob, have you no decency at all?" One of the card players gets up and approaches Jack.

"Your wife fucked it out of me last week."

Toothless Pete almost falls off his stool laughing.

"Fuck you, and fuck you too, Pete!" The man spits out in front of Pete and then turns to Jack.

"What do you want with John,Son?”

"Sir, I just want to talk to him. He was a friend of my father's."

"John's out back with the blacksmith. Though I don't know that John  _ has _ any friends."

"Because they're all dead!" hisses Pete.

"Shut the fuck up, Pete. John is a decent man."

"That's why his wife killed herself, because he's such a great man."

Pete is quite unprepared for the punch that hits him and leaves him unconscious on the floor.

Jack cries out in horror, and only now does he notice the sheriff's star shining on the stranger's chest.

"And that is why this cockroach here has no teeth in its mouth. He just doesn't know when to shut the fuck up." 

"I heard John's wife was murdered and that he avenged her death as a husband should," Jack whispers.

"There are enough rumors. And there are enough horror stories. I only know that John left after her death and disappeared for years until he returned four years ago. He was not the same man, and it seems he's aged years, but have found his peace."

_ Four years ago _ , Jack thought, and he suppressed a shiver. 

"I thank you for your support, Sir. Now if you'll excuse me."

“I'm watching you, Boy. Don't give me any trouble here."

"Certainly not, Sir ."

  
  


As the saloon door opens, Jack exhales deeply. The cold air flows through his lungs. Luna, his mare, looks up expectantly from her trough, but Jack decides to walk to the forge. From a distance, he can already hear the sound of metal being worked. 

It is pleasantly warm in the forge, as the hot embers in the furnace burn with an almost whitish light. Two men are at the forge, and while one of them is working on a set of horseshoes on the anvil, the other is tapping the embers of the fire.

Jack recognizes John at once. Too many times in the last three days, he has stared at the sketch. John is older than in the picture, but still unmistakable. His forty years have marked him. Scars run across his muscular arms and he bears another one on his face. His hair is disheveled, and the formerly black hair is now streaked with gray strands. His beard is also marked by his age. His dark eyes clearly have seen a lot, and not much seems to have been good. Yet they are alert and sparkle curiously at him.

"What do you want, Boy ? Are you looking for work?" the blacksmith asks over the loud hammering.

"No, Sir. I'd like to talk to..."

"Then get out of my forge!"

"With all due respect, Sir ..."

"Listen to this guy. Are you something special?"

John looks at Jack, studying his face. "Let the boy finish, Bob."

John's voice is calm and yet, despite the background noise, easy to understand.

"Thank you, Sir. Indeed, I would like a word with you, Mr Winchester."

"Is that a bastard of yours, John?" 

Jack looks down at his feet, embarrassed, and then back at John.

"No, I am not Sir, but you knew my father. Please, a word."

Suspicious, John puts the fire tongs aside and wipes his hands dry. He nods at Jack and they both step outside the door.

No sooner are they out of earshot of the forge than Jack finds himself rudely pressed against the wall of the building, a narrow silver knife pressed against his throat.

"You have two minutes to tell me who or what you are and what you want from me." John's words freeze Jack's blood. Not for a second does he doubt that John will stab without warning.

“Mr. Winchester, please listen to me. I've been on the road for three days. I have barely rested, let alone eaten. I was almost robbed. They tried to steal my horse and what little money I have left on me."

"And why should I care, Laddie ?" John's voice is hard, but he takes a step back and gives Jack a little space.

"It's about my fiancée. I believe she's being held against her will. I received a letter from a Sister in whose congregation she works, and I'm very concerned about her!"

"And why are you coming to me with this?"

"Because..." Jack hesitates and looks around "Because I think there's something  _ wrong _ with the situation."

Jack closes the distance between the two men again and whispers, "Because I think that something supernatural is involved."

John's eyes look over Jack from top to bottom. Suddenly, with lightning speed, he pulls out his knife and the sharp blade runs millimetres over Jack's arm, leaving a fine streak of fresh blood behind.

"Ow, Damn it, did you have to do that?"

"Yes," John replies, and goes back to the forge.

"I hate to disappoint you, Boy. Whatever you're looking for here, it ain't there anymore."

"Jack Kline."

John stops.

"What?"

"My name is Jack Kline, Sir. My mother was Kelly Kline, and my father was Jim Novak. And I sure do think you can help me!"


	3. Chapter 3

John's log cabin is only five minutes away from the stables where Jack kept his mare for the night. Nervously, he takes the last steps before he stops in front of it. After he had told John his name, John started to move back to the forge and Jack thought he had gone to all this trouble for nothing. But in front of the blacksmith's door, John stopped again and let him know where he could put Luna and that he should visit him in his cabin in an hour. Miss Daryl not only took care of his horse, but also explained the directions to John's quarters.

Here he is, knocking tentatively on the door.

When John opens the door a few moments later, he looks at Jack again with the same incredulity as before. As if he sees a ghost. And in some ways, that was true. Jack looks exactly like his father.

John opens the door a bit more and Jack enters. The cabin is simply and very appropriately furnished. A bed, a wooden table, and two chairs. In the fireplace, a pile of logs is already burning and spreads a pleasant warmth.

John points to one of the two chairs as he walks to the simple shelf on the wall and returns with a bottle of bourbon and two milky, worn glasses. His feet are bare, the simple brown linen pants and the white cotton shirt have seen better days. John smells of fire, soot, and alcohol. And yet this man exudes an aura Jack has never before experienced.

The bourbon flows honey brown into both glasses. They toast in silence. Jack sips the strong alcohol, more as a courtesy. His lips burn and he has to cough a little from the sudden fire in his throat. John laughs softly and stares into the flames of the fireplace. "Your father was the only one who could take me on. Damn son of a bitch, that man could drink."

"Mr. Winchester..." Jack starts as John raises his hand, stopping him.

"Please, call me John. Mr. Winchester sounds just too old and I'm not dead yet."

"John," Jack starts again, "I need your help. I know you've settled here, but I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if it wasn't absolutely essential."

"How's your mother?" 

"What...? Good, so far so good. The heart... I… I don't think she ever really recovered from the grief." Jack looks into the glass and watches the liquid in it circulate as he swirls it around. The alcohol draws streaks on the inside, and the fire from the fireplace lets it shine in shimmering colours. 

"We couldn't save him, Son ."

"I know."

"And there's not a day when I don't regret it."

Jack looks up and stares sadly at John. He looks so much older than in the drawing.

Scarred by life. 

"She talks about him very rarely. Or about you. I wish I knew more about my father and what he did. I hope you can fill this hole in my memory."

"He saved lives. Dozens. He was a hero."

Jack smiles gently at John "I heard you all were."

"We were just doing our job."

"Really? Did you get paid for this one? Ever acknowledged, thanked? You, or my father or Sa..."

"Enough Jack, the past is in the past!" John is stroking his salt and pepper beard.

"Sorry, I... We did what we had to do, in the end it just cost us too much." John looks into the fire, lost in thought, memories drumming at him.

Eventually, he looks back at Jack. "Why did you go down this road, Jack?"

Jack's fingers rub against each other nervously. He also looks into the fire, avoiding eye contact with John. "Three days ago, I received a letter from a sister in the New Orleans religious order where my... my fiancé is ministering."

John raises his eyebrow questioningly.

"She's not a nun, if that's what you're wondering. She is a maid working for Bishop Vaughn. Anyway, Sister Ellen writes that I must come to New Orleans immediately. That they have locked up Jo, my fiancé, against her will, and that there are suspicious things going on. Things she can't talk about openly. Supernatural things! She writes about how much Bishop Vaughn has changed over the last weeks. Immediately I've been trying to reach Sister Ellen.“

Jack's voice becomes quieter and John can hear the desperation coming out.

"I sent two telegrams. Both went unanswered."

John takes a deep breath, his fingers clenching around the glass. 

"Jack...", he starts.

"I know, I know you're retired. I know about your fight, but you four, as a team, you fought evil, you were my heroes when I was a kid."

"Jack," John puts his hand on his shoulder, "We're not doing this anymore... and... your fiancé... Son, she's probably dead already."

"No!“ Jack breaks free of John's grip and jumps up. "No, I would know!"

"You say yourself you have had no contact with her."

"I sense she's still alive. John, I just know it, and there's something else..“ Desperation is written on Jack's face, but so is his desperate stubbornness. “In the letter I received there was another message. But I can't read it.“ He hands John a hastily written text. "The letters don't make sense."

John's eyes wander over the strange signs. His face is completely motionless, as he looks at the note."It's Sanskrit."

"Then you can translate it?"

"I…“, John hesitates. “I can't, but…“

"John, please, she told me that they need Jo, that they're holding her and that she doesn't have much time left."

He moves forward to stand right up in front of John. Youthful determination flashes from his eyes. "In the name of my father, please help me."

John looks at the note in his hand. Then he drinks his bourbon and puts the glass upside down on the table. He rises and walks over to the small chest which stands somewhat hidden in a niche.

He opens the chest and takes out a leather doublet, light brown leather, washed out, but neat. Small metal rings are sewn in. The armour of a fighter who has to be mobile. Carefully John takes out the second counter sword - a broadsword, covered with engravings. An iron-coloured hilt with a pentagram-like symbol. John cradles the sword in his hand.

"You should be resting, Son. We leave at dawn.“

"You will come with me to New Orleans?"

" _ We _ ride for Springfield tomorrow."

"To Missouri? Why?"

John puts the sword on the table. "Because that's where we're gonna find Dean."

  
  


XXXXX

  
  


As they discussed, they saddle their horses at dawn. Miss Daryl gives them provisions. Nobody asks why John leaves town overnight, and Jack is on the one hand surprised but also relieved.

They ride silently for the first few miles side by side, as the sun slowly changes from the morning reds to the golden yellow ball high in the sky. They pass fields and small villages. They fill up their water bottles along the rivers. 

John's mare is spotted black and white. She has a calm, but tough character. John's broadsword is in a belt on his back since they started to ride.

"How do you know where Dean is, when you haven't had contact in years?", Jack curiously breaks the silence.

John spits out the straw on which he has previously chewed. "Just because we don't see each other doesn't mean I don't still keep an eye on my boys."

"Did the wish never come back to you all? To go off together, fight the evil?"

"You didn't see what we saw. Jack, I know you lost your father, but believe me, we all lost something that day."

"You never tried to face him again?" Jack whispers "The Demon?“

John straightens up on his horse, the tension is written all over his face.

"I hope we did defeat him. And I'd be careful with that choice of words, Boy. You'll be hanging from that tree before you know it." 

"Then you want to deny it? That this is what you've been hunting? Creatures, monsters?"

"Maybe your mother told you too many scary stories?"

"John," Jack looks seriously at him, "My mother told me everything. And I may seem weak to you because I was trained not in weapons but in books, but I can assure you that none of this will deter me from fighting for my fiancé!"

John looks over at Jack for a long moment, then he looks back over the horse's head onto the road.

"What's she like, your Jo?"

A smile plays around the lips of the young man."She's a stubborn one, but she's gentle. She has the temperament of a mustang and the eyes of an angel."

John grins at Jack's description. "How did you two even meet?"

„One of my teachers took me to Louisiana. To get to know the culture of the southern states. Understand business connections. The moment I saw her, we were done for.“

"You talk like a blinded bull."

„You'll understand when you see her!"

"And you got engaged just like that?"

"Well, we... haven't told our parents yet..." Jack's dodging the answer a little.

John looks over at Jack in surprise "You haven't officially proposed yet?"

"I wanted to! But it hasn't happened yet."

"You don't buy a pig in a poke," provokes John laughing.

"Excuse me?"

But John just laughs louder and clicks his tongue whereupon his mare falls in a light gallop. "Come on Don Juan, let us save your princess.“

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They reach Springfield in the afternoon. The sun is low, and a colorful evening sky shines above them. They take their horses to a hostel on the outskirts of town. 

John talks alone with the lady who rents the rooms. When he returns a few minutes later, a smile is on his lips. “We'll rest here for a few hours and the horses will be taken care of.“ 

"Shouldn't we go and look for Dean?" Jack asks, impatiently.

"He won't show up before midnight. Believe me, I have a good feeling that we will find him. But you need a break and so does your horse.“

Together they enter the simple dwelling with two single beds, and a jug of water on a nightstand. John swings himself onto the first bed nearest the door, puts his arms crossed over his chest, and is asleep within seconds.

Jack looks at him in disbelief. How could he think about sleep now? He fills a little water into the porcelain bowl and refreshes his face.

A relaxed snoring sounds from John's bed.

Jack takes off his jacket and walks over to the other bed. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls two rolled-up pieces of paper out of his bag. One is a portrait of a young woman with blonde hair and the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. Gently he strokes her cheek on the picture. 

The other shows a sketch, four men are seen on the strongly yellowed paper. Despite the years, he recognizes John immediately, on the left side of his own father. Warm and good-natured is his look. Of the young man to his right, hardly anything is left to see, too much damage on the picture, but the prominent chin betrays Dean. Next to him is Sam, hardly older than sixteen, with a look as if he carries the burden of humanity on his shoulders.

Even if the picture had faded, the letters were still unmistakable

_ Wanted - Dead or alive _

He carefully folds both papers back together and stows them away. Then he also lets himself fall onto his bed. And contrary to his firm conviction, he falls deeply asleep within a few minutes.

XXXXX

  
  


Hearing the door to the room open, Jack jumps up from the bed.

Darkness surrounds him, only the light of an oil lamp illuminates the room.

"Sleep well?" asks John, grinning as he closes the door behind him.

Jack yawns and looks around in wonder. "How long was I asleep?"

"For as long as you needed.“ John tosses an apple at him. „Come on, get ready. We're going over to the pub."

"Where have you been?"

"I was making some conversation." John throws a duffel bag onto the bed.

"Whose is it?"

"Right now ours, come on, we don't have all night and I'm thirsty."

Jack quickly puts on his jacket and goes outside to find the privy. After he has done his business, he returns to John. The horses have already been saddled and are ready to go, next to another one. 

But John suggests they walk over. "It's only a few minutes and I have to stretch my legs before we get back on the horses." 

"Are we riding on right away?"

"That depends on Dean."

Together they walk along the dusty main street.

"How did you two meet?"

"Dean and I? That's a long story.“ Jack keeps looking at John. "I knew his parents, Bobby and Jody Singer. They served the law. Great people. Rough, but warm, if you know what I mean."

John looks ahead, lost in thought, as if he were living in memories.

"What happened?"

"They were killed when Dean was ten years old. He watched it happen, had to watch as a," John looks behind him before he continues, "as a Wendigo killed them both.“

They turn left onto a side street, and head for an illuminated house. From inside they can already hear the sounds of a piano. Laughing and singing gets louder and louder. 

"I was looking for him when I heard about Bobby and Jodi. But he ran away. Found him, and lost him again. Dean was... marked for life. Driven by revenge and anger. How a little boy could have so much rage in him…“ John sighs.

„And then it almost got worse.“

"How?" Jack stops in front of the building and waits for John to turn to him.

"Dean got cold. Hanging out with the wrong people. Never let anyone near him. I tried to get him interested in hunting. Tried to channel his anger into energy, turn it into something positive. It worked for a few weeks, then he got restless again. One time, he was only thirteen, I picked him up drunk, nearly unconscious. Bleeding on his head and arm. He was defending a girl who had been touched indecently."

They slowly start again, climbing the wooden stairs up to the entrance. 

"I cared for his wounds and washed him and stayed with him all night. He asked me why. I told him that I cared for him, that he was like a son to me. He turned away and said he was not worth it. I yelled at him, tried to make him understand that he fucking was worth it. And that I wasn't gonna let him throw his life away. If he thinks his life has no meaning, then he should just fight for others, fight against evil, do his job.

When I woke up, he was still there and he stayed."

"It sounds like he doesn't really care about himself or others."

"He didn’t at that time. He became the best hunter I know, but his heart belonged to no one."

"At that time? What changed?" 

John opens the door of the saloon, the smell of stuffy air, sweat, and tobacco rising to their noses. As Jack walks past him, John whispers mostly to himself, "Sam".

  
  


The saloon is well-filled, the end of the week provides paid wages and their owners want to invest them in alcohol, gambling, and women. At the tables sit mainly men, the mood is loud and cheerful. Cards are on the tables and coins change hands. 

On oak barrels stand old wine bottles with burning candles stuck into them. To the right of them is the bar. Some men are already sitting on barstools, enjoying their whiskey or the stimulating conversation with the ladies.

From the ceiling old wagon wheels are mounted, on them hang petroleum lamps which illuminate the whole room in diffuse light.

Jack and John head for the bar. John orders two beers and they lean against the bar to watch the room. Jack looks around, searching, but cannot find anyone he recognizes.

"Sam?" Jack looks over at John.

"What?"

„You said Dean's changed, and that's because of Sam."

John takes the two beers, hands Jack one of them and takes a big sip of his own.

"I told you, Dean didn't care about anything or anybody. But the day we met Sam, that changed suddenly. For Sam, Dean walked through fire. And vice versa. The two of them were thunder and lightning. One always following the other.

I have never in my life seen two people so complementary."

"What happened?"

John hears Jack's question from the side, his eyes focused on one of the tables where a lively discussion has broken out. "This isn't the place, kiddo."

John turns around and orders another beer, the discussion at the table turns into a heated exchange of words that now draws the attention of half the saloon. Jack looks at the two roosters. Both are big and strongly built, the one on the left seems like a cowboy, cool and slightly arrogant. He wears a brown shirt and a leather vest with simple jeans set off with leather. His black felt hat is pulled deep over his face.

"If you dare to accuse me of cheating one more time. ." the other one rears up in front of him. His clothes have seen better days and his beard is unkempt. 

"I call you what I want, you cheat, and you stink of cow dung." Laughter comes from all sides of the saloon." 

The cowboy in the black hat straightens up in front of the other. "I'd think very carefully about whether you really want to mess with me." he speaks quietly, and the saloon falls silent for a moment.

"What do you think, maybe I should ask your mommy for permission?"

John reaches for the second beer.

The guests laugh out loud as the cowboy's fist shoots forward and lands in the face of the rebellious one. He spits blood, looks at the Cowboy angrily and rams his shoulder into his upper body, both landing on the table, which collapses with a groan. A wild brawl breaks out beneath the cheering of the audience.

Jack watches the whole thing in shock. 

„Come Boy, it's time to go.“

"But, John, what about Dean?"

"What about him?“

"I thought we were gonna wait for him and meet him here?"

John smiles at him in surprise, "Kiddo, we found him already."

Jack looks back over his shoulder and sees the cowboy grab the assailant by the collar and drag him through half the saloon. John hands Jack the second glass, then he opens the door of the saloon. 

The cowboy nods to John with a smile, then catapults the troublemaker outside with a powerful kick in the ass. "I don't ever want to see your filthy face around here again, understand?"

John raises his glass in greeting and the cowboy taps his hat respectfully.

"Oh my God. Is that Dean?" Jack whispers in awe. 

John laughs loudly and throws his head back.

Then he takes the glass from Jack again and walks out of the saloon. 

"No, Boy", he points to the filthy man lying in the dirt, who moans and sits up slowly.

" _ That's _ Dean!"

John descends the stairs, coming to a stop next to Dean and holding the glass out to him. "Well, did you have fun?"

Green eyes glow with joy. "Son of a bitch, I knew I recognized your carcass.“ Dean empties the glass in one go, burps, and throws it behind him. Slowly he rises and knocks the dust off his body.

By this time Jack can really look at him. Dean is huge, like really tall. Broad shoulders and clear, emerald green eyes. His teeth are white and do not match the rest of his dirty appearance.

The two men face each other briefly. Emotions are reflected in both pairs of eyes, but this is not the right place to get sentimental. Slowly the group of three moves back the way Jack and John came.

"How long do you think it'll take for this idiot to realize you've hustled him?"

Dean laughs, still limping a little. "I hope long enough, the guy had a really good punch." Dean rubs his chin as they walk back along the main street.

"Was it at least worth it?" asks John.

Dean's eyes flash.

"I..I don't understand anything anymore." Jack's gaze wanders from one to the other.

Dean briefly makes sure that no one is following them, then he reaches under his vest and pulls out a small leather bag. He throws it into the air and catches it casually. The jingling of some coins can be heard.

"Jackpot! I just say  _ payday _ . But he always has it with him, close to his body. I hate these suspicious people."

"This...this was planned? All this sheepherding was just an excuse to steal his money?" In disbelief, Jack stops and stares at Dean.

Who looks questioningly at John. "Okay John, who is this brat and why can he call me a thief with impunity?"

John puts his arm around Dean's shoulder and they slowly move on. "For one thing, because you  _ are _ a thief ."

"Shut up." Dean pouts, but the corners of his mouth lift into a smile.

"I would prefer to call it trading..."

"For another," John whispers in Dean's ear, "it's Jim Novak's boy."

Dean stops, stands tall, and frees himself from John's clutches. "Fuck no!"

"Dean."

"No. What the hell are you doing here, Kid !" 

"Dean, just hear him out."

"Are you kidding me?“ 

"You," Dean rushes up to Jack, pointing a threatening finger at him. "Whatever the reason is, guilt, honor, or  _ I dont give a shit _ , you ride back to your mother right now and  _ you _ son of a bitch," he turns to John, "you're not going to make him a hunter, you got it? The boy has a future, a life, we promised to make it happen." 

John grabs Dean by the collar and yells back at him.

"I know that, you idiot, and I don't care if I have to beat you or handcuff you, you're coming with us and you're gonna listen to him. And if you still say no, then go the fuck wherever the Hell you wanna go."

From a distance they can hear some people shouting.

"Seems your  _ trading venture  _ has been noticed." John lets go of Dean, and Jack releases the breath he'd been holding . 

"Your things are already in our room, compliments of Molly, so come on, you stubborn mule."

The voices become louder and more aggressive.

"I'm not leaving without Baby ."

Jack looks at him, shocked, and says, "I didn't know that..."

"He means his horse!" All three of them increased their speed, "And she's already saddled up next to ours and ready to go."

"You are like a mother."

"For once in your life Dean, keep your mouth shut."

In less than five minutes they are on their way, John in front, Dean on his pitch black mare behind him, and Jack following them.

"So where to, old man?"

“First, I want to get some distance from your new friends, and then I want to find a reasonable guesthouse with warm food, beer, and a bed.

And you, my friend, are in dire need of a bath and some new clothes."

John spurs his horse on and the three of them ride off into the night.

  
  


  
  



	5. Chapter 5

They ride on to Branson, taking the more difficult route, but avoiding the detour around Lake Taneycomo. Branson welcomes every guest and doesn’t ask too many questions, and the city is also known for its gambling and entertainment establishments.

Due to their late arrival time, they first look for a place to sleep. This time, however, John and Dean share the room, which gives Jack a little privacy and quiet. 

After sleeping in and a good breakfast, the rest of the day is discussed. While Jack urges the other two men to continue their journey, Dean wants to try his luck at cards. John decides that Jack will take care of provisions and the horses while he and Dean visit the next bathhouse. Half an hour later, they are lying in a tub with warm, fragrant water and a whiskey glass in their hands.

It takes another ten minutes before Dean cannot stand the silence any longer. 

"You've grown old. Retirement doesn't suit you."

"Who says I'm retired. Just because  _ you _ can't stand regular work in one place."

"Still hunting?"

"No, you?"

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "I keep my eyes open. If anything gets in my way, I'll kill it."

"You shouldn't go off on your own."

"You were on your own then, too."

John takes a sip of whiskey and leans his head back.

Dean looks over at him. "How did you find me?"

"Who says I ever lost you?"

Dean snorts and massages his left shoulder with his right arm. "Is this spying only for me?"

John opened one eye and glanced at Dean. "You really want to know?"

Dean lets his arm sink back into the warm water. "You would have told me if, I mean I would know if he..." Dean does not finish the sentence, but stares, lost in thought, at the water.

"He's fine." John answers the unspoken question.

"Well, I mean, that's good. After all, that's what he wanted, isn't it?"

"Are you ever gonna tell me what happened?"

"You've seen what Jim's death and the circumstances have done to him. It changed him.“

"It changed all of us Kiddo ."

"You can't understand, John.“ 

"You've never tried."

"So, Jim's son? Are you gonna tell me what he's doing here?"

John looks at Dean for a long time. But Dean has closed up, raised his walls, and John feels that he cannot reach him anymore. No one ever could, except Sam. 

He takes another sip and starts talking, telling Dean all of the information he had so far.

  
  


"Do you really think it's a demon?" Dean asks, after John is finished telling him everything.

"It's possible."

"But why? And in a church, what do they have to do with it?"

"Maybe it's the place? Or the bishop? But I still don't understand what they want from the girl. From what Jack tells me, she's a normal girl, no particular background. So why is she the ´chosen one`?

"And for what?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." John kneads his tense calf muscles.

  
  


Dean takes his last sip of whiskey. "Little Jack."

"Unbelievable, isn't it? Last time you saw him, he was, what, nine?" John asks.

"I believe ten." 

"To me, he'll always be that little boy."

"He'd been following us around all day." Dean chuckles.

"And he hung on Sam's leg, trying to climb up, always shouting: Tree, tree!" John laughs out loud.

"And now there's a young man standing before you."

"With a fiancée."

"I hope he knows what he's getting into," Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

"As I understand it, he's already had a chance to see if the two of them are  _ compatible _ .

"You're not serious?"

"You bet." John laughs. 

"Our little Jack, I can't believe it."

John looks over at Dean. "Love finds its way Dean, sooner or later."

Dean's face darkens. "Got any more wisdom, old man?"

John rises from the tub. The water runs down his body. Dean looks at the scars on John's back and looks down on his own in the murky water.

John roughly dries himself and folds the towel around his waist. "Dean, the boy is in love. And he will do anything for her. I'm gonna help him and leave it up to you to be there."

Dean gets out of the water, too. He stands naked in front of John.

"Like you'll be okay without me."

"We would. But it would definitely be more entertaining with you."

Before John leaves the bathing room, he looks around once more to his foster son.

"Dean, think what you will of me, but I see love where it is. And no matter what you believe or fear, loving someone can never be the wrong choice. Even at the risk of being hurt."

With these words, he leaves Dean behind.

  
  


The sun has reached its zenith when the three rejoin their horses. Dean checks Baby's bridle and saddle and is more than satisfied. Jack knots small bags of provisions on the saddles. Jack gives Dean a stunned look, as if he's seeing a totally different human being. He has to admit that, cleaned and dressed, Dean is extremely handsome. His beard is trimmed and has a slight reddish tint to it. 

He is wearing a new pair of jeans, a black shirt, and a gun belt. The shimmering, mother-of-pearl handle of his pistol peeks out, and Dean makes no secret of showing it off. 

"Do I want to know where you got the clothes?" John asks, as he tightens Baby's girth once more.

"Nope, I don't think so."

"Good, then we can go." 

They set off and begin their journey south. They pass Harrison, making a short stop in Jasper.

They follow the foothills of the Ozark National Forest. Jack would like to ride all night, but John and Dean convince him to take a break. At the small, provisional campfire Jack tells them about his mother. What it was like growing up without his father, knowing that he is fighting for justice that no one will thank him for doing.

"People have often talked about Dad being ´wanted`. Officially, my mother always denied knowing where he was. But at home, before going to bed, she told me about him. The four of you. That you chased the bad guys. Fighting for the good. I remember that we rode out a couple of times. To other towns or a clearing. And there you were." He looks at Dean. "I remember you and Sam playing with me while my Mom and Dad had to talk."

Dean looks over to John who can't wipe the grin off his face.

Jack looks up and becomes red in the face. "Yeah, I know by now they weren't talking, either.“

"He loved you, Jack. You and your mother, please remember that. But it was safer for you if you had no contact."

"I know," Jack looks into the dying flame. "I've always been glad to see him. But it hurt so much to say goodbye. Mama was always so sad afterwards." 

Dean puts his hand on Jack's shoulder. All three men fall silent. Each of them give in to their own thoughts. Each one of them has lost people that were important to them. 

And every single one of those losses has left a mark on their souls.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll lay down some firewood. First watch."

John gets up and walks over to his horse while the two young men lay out their sleeping bags .

He opens the small saddle bag and takes out a silver flask.

John puts some wood onto the blazing flame and watches the tongues dancing over the branches. He takes a big sip of brandy and looks over at the sleeping boys. Dean will always be like a son to him, no matter what happens. Four years have made him a handsome man. But in his sleep, his features soften and remind him of the boy who lay in his arms and cried for his mother after a nightmare.

John thinks about Mary and how much he misses her. How different it would have been if she were still alive. Would she have cared for Dean more? Would she have made him a different man? Would Sam still be with them? Would they have children of their own? John wipes his eyes. She'd always been the strongest of the two.

She knew that the werewolf's bite sealed her fate. While John was still begging and desperately trying to find a solution, she took on the responsibility he was not capable of handling. "I love you" her last words sounded in his ears, followed by the shot from the pistol barrel that put the silver bullet into her head.

Suicide, the rumor persisted. She had too much of John and his crazy theories about monsters or dark forces. 

Eventually, his alcohol-clouded brain could no longer tolerate the cynical comments behind his back. He disappeared in the middle of the night and ceased to exist until he found the pack and wiped it out completely. And the next, and the next. He couldn't stop. If he had died, he wouldn't care, because John was already dead inside. 

They say time heals all wounds,and the worst part is, it does. And suddenly, you're laughing again. Suddenly, you're eating with friends again. And suddenly there's a young guy in front of you who needs you. And a few years later, you take him in like your own son. And then a few years later, another one. John looks up at the stars. 

_ I hope I'm doing the right thing here, Mary. _

_ I miss you so much. _

He takes another sip, the alcohol warms his body. Tomorrow will be a defining day. 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Dean takes the second watch and greets the sunrise with the smell of fresh coffee. The small, tin pot over the fire is his most valuable possession, along with his Colt and the necklace that hangs under his shirt. 

Earlier, he had filled the cold water from his hose into the pot and put the coffee grounds in it. Whoever invented coffee, Dean would take a bullet for him. Dean watches the brew as it slowly begins to simmer. It was almost like a ritual for him to greet the day when he was riding alone with Baby. Carefully, he removes the boiling coffee from the fire and pours a little cold water into it. The coffee grinder started to settle down and Dean could already taste the first sip on his tongue. Those first hours in the morning are always so peaceful. He takes his tin cup and pours himself a healthy serving of the hot brew. John and Jack move around in their sleep, and it wouldn't be long before the smell will wake them up.

Dean looks at John. He hadn't entirely lied when he teased John about his age. The years did leave a trace on him. John's beard has grown grayer and the furrows around his eyes are deeper. Still, Dean knows from experience that John should never be underestimated. 

Baby digs into the ground behind him with her hoof. 

Dean takes a first, hot sip and cannot suppress a light sigh. It's almost like the old days. He, John ... how many times has he struggled with himself over the last four years. How many times has he thought about going to Lawrence and visiting John. It was not the fear of seeing John, he knew he would be welcomed with open arms. It was the fear that John would try to persuade him to stay, and more importantly, that Dean would give in. Without realizing it, he plays with the thin, leather cord around his neck. After Sam left, the two of them tried it. Just like old times, he and John, hunting together again. But it was never the same. Something was missing, and it was such a huge gap, that Dean couldn't take it. And so they parted ways. John made it clear he was going back to Lawrence, and let Dean know where to find him. And Dean... survived.

He moved on, hunted, played, drank booze, and existed.

Never looking back, just looking ahead, one foot in front of the other, which is how he had done it since he was ten, when he was robbed of everything a child could own. 

Only once he had opened his heart and felt something like love again, and the wound is still bleeding today and just won't close. 

Dean wipes his wet eyes, demonizes the soot of the fire, and drinks his coffee in relative peace. 

  
  


They make good progress through the day; the horses keep the fast pace and, apart from a few short breaks, there is no time to chat or complain about aching buttocks.

After they have left Christal Hill behind them, John turns west. To Dean's amazement he steers toward the bridge to take them over the Arkansas River.

As John rides directly towards the bridge, Dean pulls on Baby's reins and brings his black beauty to a halt.

"You're going the wrong way, old man!"

John pretends not to hear Dean and rides on. Jack is a bit irritated and stops as well, which makes John swear a little.

Just before the bridge he also stops and steers his horse around 180 degrees. 

"What is it?" he cries to Dean.

"Are you deaf and blind?“ replies Dean before he explains. 

"After Little Rock, it's south. We can still cross the river there and get us some fresh supplies. But over the bridge, there's nothing."

John stubbornly remains standing at the bridge."We just have to take a little detour, Dean. We'll be on the back on the road soon!"

Dean doesn't like it, and he rides up to John. "What kind of detour? What aren't you telling me, John?"

John rolls his eyes. "I just need to clarify something for Jack, okay? We ride in, we get the information, we ride on, that's it, all right?"

"No!“

Jack's trying to mediate. "John, is this about that message we can't read?"

John's face remains motionless.

"What message, Jack?" Dean looks over at Jack. He's got a bad feeling.

Jack, on the other hand, is pleased that he can help and he answers, visibly relieved.

"I received a message from one of the sisters, but could not read it. John says that it is Sanskrit and he can't either, but that he knows someone who…“

"Fuck, no!"

"Dean." John tries to answer as calmly as possible.

"I knew it,  _ fuck _ , I knew it." Dean jumps off Baby and charges up to John.

John takes a deep breath and also gets off his horse.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yells at him.

"Dean, listen to me." John raises his arms in defense. 

"No, John, you listen to me. I said I'd help Jack. I'm ready to ride with you, but if you're planning on bringing Sam into this, I swear to God."

"Dean, just to have him translate it. You can't and I've tried, and we both know that no one speaks that language like Sam. And it's almost on the way. So we're not wasting much time."

"Where is he?" Dean puts himself right in front of John. Anger shines from his eyes.

"Dean..."

"Where the  _ hell _ is he?"

"In Salem," John replies, "he's lived there for two years.“

Dean's fist hits John without warning and with full force. 

John staggers from the blow, but still stays on his feet. His lip is cracked and blood is pouring out of it. 

Dean breathes heavily and he keeps his fists raised.

John spits the blood into the dusty sand. "Feel better now?"

"Not by a long shot!" But Dean puts his fists down and turns away from John.

"Dean, we need him. Jack needs him."

"He doesn't want to see us, John." 

"Why don't you let him decide?" John's getting closer to Dean.

"What are you afraid of, Dean? That he won't see us, or  _ that _ he'll help us?"

Without turning around again, Dean marches back to Baby. He steps his foot into the stirrup and swings himself onto the black horse. "Just the translation. He's not coming with us."

Jack looks over at John. "I'm sorry, " Jack whispers.

"Don't worry about it, Kiddo. He would've found out anyway. I earned that."

John swings himself back into the saddle and gives his gelding the spurs.

That was the easy part.

  
  


XXXXX

  
  


"You can't get me!" The little boy runs away from his big sister, screaming and laughing. Until he runs into a big man with an "oomph." 

"Excuse me, mister!" 

The man ruffles through the young man's hair with his rough hand. "It's okay, Kid ." 

The young boy looks up briefly, then laughingly runs after his sister, while the man continues walking towards the church.

  
  


XXXXX

  
  


"I don't know how to thank you."

"Please, not for this."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Just promise me you'll leave tonight."

"We will."

"And remember, apply twice a day." Sam looks at the swollen face of the woman. Carefully, he strokes the bruised area under her eye. "I wish I could do more for you, Reese."

"You've already done so much. God bless you, Sam."

The young woman leaves the church with her head lowered. 

Sam hears her quickly step outside.

He remains sitting for a moment in the second row of wooden pews.

He looks to the altar and at the flickering candles, up to the cross, big and dominant above it. He prays that Reese and her son really leave tonight. The money he raised for her should be enough to get her back to her mother. Sam, himself is still thinking about paying a visit to Bill, her douchebag of a husband, once he gets back from his drive. 

The heavy main door is opened and the light pours through the rows of benches. A single man enters. His walk is heavy, days of riding are behind him, but he is determined, his left leg slightly bent. Sam stares further up at Jesus, but his heart beats in a staccato rhythm. 

The man stops in line behind him, crosses himself. 

Brandy, a gelding, the fire of a blacksmith's forge. Sam inhales the strange odors, but recognizes them immediately. Memories come back. 

John sits behind him.

"You have grown old." Sam's voice is always so gentle, and yet can be so cynical.

"This isn't the first time I've heard that." John chuckles.

Sam flinches slightly.

"Did you hear about that landlord in Fairbanks? Treated his staff and livestock like shit." John`s voice sounds neutral.

Sam doesn't reply, but John doesn't miss the light smile at the corners of his mouth.

"What do people say?"

"The guy suddenly had everything go bad overnight. Gone on for months now. Nothing worked. His water was seeping away, he got sick, fractured his wrists while walking."

"That really just sounds like bad luck."

"Yes, I guess it does."

"I wonder, would you find a rabbit's foot in his house if you looked for it?"

"People cling to their superstitions in the strangest things."

"I guess so."

Sam turns slightly to the side, looks at John out of the corner of his eye.

The young man's features have become distinctive, not the youthful face it once was. 

"Is he dead, John?" The question is more of a whisper.

John smiles at Sam.

"Interesting. Dean asked me that same question too, first thing."

John sees that Sam is visibly relieved.

"How is Pastor Jim?" asks John, and Sam smiles.

"I should have known you were still in touch. Maybe I even hoped. He's fine. He's aging, but he's a good man, John."

John looks at Sam for a long moment, then he cannot hold on to himself and gets up. "I missed you, Boy !"

Sam also stands up, his eyes wet with emotion. They step into the wide central aisle and remain standing opposite each other.

"Fucking hell, are you still growing?"

"John, this is a house of God!" But Sam's eyes sparkle with laughter and he presses John firmly against him. 

They hold onto each other a little longer until they release and John looks at him again in admiration. 

"Now, will you finally tell me why you are here? And please don't try to deny that Dean is with you. I'd recognize Baby from a wild herd of mustangs."

"You still have a sixth sense, right?" John's question is more a statement. 

"I still have  _ all _ my skills." Sam replies, meaningfully. 

"Is there someplace private we can talk?"

"What do you think about a walk through the graveyard.?"

"Sounds like the old days."

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The small cemetery is only a few steps away from the church. A simple, wooden fence encloses the area. Scarecrows are scattered around the field to keep the damn crows from ravaging the fresh graves. Isaak Devlin was buried here three weeks ago. Sam was able to ease his pain, but not the inevitable. Sentimentally, he strokes the simple wooden cross that summarizes Isaak's life. Name, birth, death. Out of the corner of his eye he looks at John. Sam knew the day would come when he would see John again. It was always  _ when _ , never  _ if _ . And that thought has always been like a soothing balm to his soul. To see that man again, whom he would most readily describe as his mentor. Father Figure perhaps. The man, who saved his life on a September day, ten years ago. 

The man who cut the heavy rope from the twelve-year-old boy's neck that should have killed him. Sam was supposed to die on that autumn day. Because Sam is different, because he's always been different. 

The baby, whose parents were brutally slaughtered. With no evidence of an intruder. Only the tattered, barely recognizable bodies lying outside his crib. Sam lay crying and screaming in his crib, while the blood of his parents coloured his baby blanket red. Crows were dancing on the crib and on the remains of his parents. That's why Sam hates crows to this day. The croak of their throaty voices drives him crazy.

No one knows why the baby was spared. And Sam wished more than once that he hadn't been. He was given away over and over again. No one could bear with him for long. The silent child with the sad eyes. The shy kid in whose care strange things happened. Lights flickered, glasses fell to the ground, Sam was like a jinx. People were dying near him. At least those were the rumors. And at some point people stopped bothering to look for sense or nonsense. It was easier to put all of the blame for everything bad on the skinny, little boy. Why look for a different reason when you could beat up the obvious reason? 

Sam flinches as a warm hand is placed on his shoulder. "Sorry, I was just deep in thought."

"It’s okay, Sam. Are you still having those dreams?" They walk slowly over the graveyard.

"Everyone dreams John.“ 

It wasn’t the answer John wanted to hear. John looks at him but doesn't ask again and slowly takes his hand off Sam's shoulder. 

"So, Jack?" Sam raises his eyebrow and John accepts the change of subjects.

Sam listens intently as John tells him everything that happened so far. "And you came all the way here. Just so I could translate this message for you?"

asks Sam with a mocking grin on his face.

"I assure you, it happened on the way. But I can't deny I'd love to have you coming with us, Sam."

"You know I don't believe in coincidence. And you know I can't." Sam affirms. 

For the first time since they've seen each other again, there's something frustrated in John's eyes-- "Honestly, I can't understand it," he finally says. "We have a chance to do something good here. Jim's son needs us and you say you  _ can't _ ."

"Is this still about Jack? Or is it about me leaving?" Sam's voice gets louder too. The wind blows his hair back in his face and angrily he brushes it away. 

John takes a breath and continues speaking calmly. "I let you go, didn't I? All these years I've left you alone, let you grow and watched you become a man from a distance. I don't understand why you waste your talent, but I've accepted it."

"What you call talent is a curse on me. Can't you see what it has already cost?"

They slowly walk back to the entrance of the cemetery. Sam wishes the conversation hadn't gone down that way. Of course he understands John's efforts and he can't deny to himself that Sam hasn't think about it. But what are we talking about here? A crazy bishop beating up his order? Nothing John and Dean couldn't handle. They don't need him. They're better and more effective without him, and the sooner they both leave, the sooner Sam can stifle the nostalgia for the old days. If he translates the message right here, he doesn't even have to risk seeing Dean. A thought that deeply troubles Sam. "Do you have the note with you?" He asks hopefully.

"Jack has it,“ John responds. “He and Dean are waiting at the tavern." 

_ Great.  _ Just the mention of Dean's name makes Sam shiver. “Seems like I don't have a choice but to meet them.“ 

A smile plays around John's lips. "Can you blame the boy? At least he wants to get to see you. He clung to you then, literally."

The wind has died down and both are reminiscing. "He always admired you Sam. Both of you.." John's voice is warm and Sam has missed the smooth timbre and how John can make everything sound so simple. 

But Sam had to be strong this time. He stops and turns to John, his eyes sincere.

"I'll help you with the message and you three can stay here overnight. But I'm not going with you John, I've stopped hunting. Please John, I'm begging you to respect that."

John hesitates with his answer and avoids Sam's gaze. "I do, Sam."

Sam let's out a breath, visibly relieved. "I know it sounds selfish, and believe me..." Sam doesn't speak any further because his gaze wanders to the entrance of the cemetery. And for a brief moment, time seems to stand still in the universe. On the other side of the fence is Dean.

The air is electrified and the fine hairs on Sam's arms straighten up. With wild cries all the crows fly away from the cemetery, as if they also feel the change in the air. For four years he has been longing for this moment, and at the same time he has feared it. To see Dean's eyes once more. To see once more the man who means more to him than anything in the world.

John turns around slowly and looks back and forth from Dean to Sam. Their faces are almost blank, but their eyes express a storm of feelings. 

Dean finds his voice first. "Heya, Sammy." Dean's voice sounds a little deeper than Sam remembers. And it's not the only thing that's changed. His shoulders have widened, his features have firmed. One look at Dean's lips and Sam feels them exploring his body. Ghost marks on his skin from a time almost forgotten.

"Dean." Sam whispers, voice trembling.

"Where is Jack?"John's question makes Sam wince and reminds him that someone else is with them.

"He’s waiting with the horses," Dean replies, without turning his eyes away from Sam.

John walks slowly towards Dean until they both stand shoulder to shoulder but facing the opposite direction. "I'll leave you two alone." With this, he goes on without turning around again.

  
  
  


Dean can't take his eyes off Sam. It's really him. Dean's afraid to blink and lose Sam again. He couldn't take it again. Yeah, John wanted to talk to Sam alone, but he hasn't seen him in four years, damn it. Dean stepped into that little church but when he found no one there, he went outside, then behind the church, and finally to the cemetery. Somehow, they always end up in such a place.

Right away, he saw them from a distance. And Dean could hardly believe his eyes.

The gangly, skinny, stubborn brat has grown into a beautiful man. Sam seems to have grown even taller, but his body is more muscular, his wide shoulders and narrow waist are impressive. Sam wears black, leather pants. The leather clings to his long, muscular legs. The white cotton shirt is only half buttoned up and exposes his tanned skin. The necklace around Sam's neck is new and immediately curiosity rises in Dean. 

Sam's hair is almost shoulder length. It shines in the slowly sinking sun. When Dean is almost at the entrance of the graveyard, Sam notices him. His hazel-colored eyes stare at him wide open in shock. It stings Dean in a way he never imagined.  _ Does he hate me that much _ ? Then Sam's gaze changes. A sea of emotion swirls through Dean and is reflected in Sam's eyes. Disappointment, anger, helplessness, despair, lo...

" _ Heya, Sammy." _ Dean has to say something, has to cut off this stream of feeling. 

John comes up to him and walks past him. Dean barely takes him in because his full attention is on the other man. 

_ „Dean _ .“

Sam's jaw moves and he tilts his head slightly forward. And Dean knows this reaction like it was yesterday. It's as if nothing has changed. Like the last few years never happened and they were both just waiting for this moment. Sam seems to have overcome his initial shock and walks over to him. And Dean has to actually look up to him. For a moment they stop in front of each other. They were so close once. As thick as thieves. Inseparable. Dean senses Sam's insecurity. And suddenly he is back, the little boy standing before him with the most beautiful smile in the world. "Come here, Sam." And then he has Sam in his arms. Warm and firm.  _ His _ Sam. And Dean can't repress it. He buries his nose in Sam's hair for a little while and just breathes in. Breathes Sam in. They hold on to each other as if the last few years were some nightmare and they had finally woken up. He feels Sam's head against his neck, fascinated by how such a big man can suddenly become so small in his arms. 

"I missed you so much." Sam whispers into Dean's neck.  _ Then why'd you leave? _ Dean thinks , but he won't say it.

Slowly they release themselves from their embrace.

Dean pats Sam on the back appreciatively. "Seriously, what the hell are they feeding you here, Sam?"

Sam laughs. "I can't complain." 

"So, Salem.“ Dean looks around, not overly impressed. “Not the most spectacular place in the world, I mean okay, the view is passable, but the entertainment choices are quite poor.“

"You mean there just aren't any day laborers out there to cheat out of their savings."

"Hey, I gotta make a living, too." Dean pouts.

Sam closes the small gate behind him and they slowly circle around the church building. 

"You're looking good, Dean."

"I won't argue with you."

"Modesty was never your strongest suit."

"Rather, daring, pinpoint accuracy, and dexterity."

Sam rolls his eyes. 

Their shoulders touch each other slightly as they walk, as if each was seeking the closeness of the other. It's almost like it used to be, if it wasn't for the elephant in the room.

"So, you and John are still hunting." Sam could kick his own ass. He feels Dean's eyes darken and the familiar moment's gone.

"Nah, we're not riding together anymore."

"Oh." For a moment, Sam doesn't know how to respond to that statement. He knew that his leaving would affect the relationship between John and Dean, but he was sure that they would find a way to move on together. "I didn't think you'd give up hunting."

"I didn't say I'm not hunting anymore."

"So you  _ do _ still hunt?" 

Dean runs his hand over his mouth and tries not to let it show how tense he is. “John and I tried together, it didn't work out. So we separated. I hunt better when I'm on my own anyway, so what?" 

Sam senses that Dean is not exactly telling the truth, but it is not up to Sam to call him out on it. He put Dean in this position in the first place. But secretly, he's always hoped that they were still on the road together. That John would keep an eye on Dean, that someone would look after Dean.

"Did John tell you everything?"

Sam is happy with the sudden change in subject. "Yes, I know about the message. I'll take a look at it right away."

Dean stops short. "And then what?"

Sam takes a deep breath. " _ Then _ I will translate it for you and you will travel down to New Orleans and rescue Jack's fiancee."

Dean snorts contemptuously. "You're really not coming with us? I can't believe it."

Sam embarrassedly chews on his lower lip. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"I don't believe you!"

"I really mean it."

"If you were so sorry, you wouldn't let us down." Dean's emotions are raw. This is so not what he had planned to say. He wanted to meet Sam, get the translation, then move on. But Sam is standing there, so healthy and so  _ fucking _ happy, and it's not fair, just not fair.

"Dean," Sam tries one more time. "I tried to explain. I couldn't go on. We lost so much. I didn't want to kill any more monsters. I couldn’t do it anymore. I want to help, not destroy."

" _ You want to help _ ?“ Contrary to everything that Dean has set out to do, his voice becomes loud after all. Sam always manages to get behind all his facades and expose his most deeply buried emotions. “Then tell that to the people who still need our help! Tell that to the women whose husbands were torn apart by werewolves.

Tell that to the children who..." Dean furiously runs his hand through his hair.

He slows his speech for a moment, then picks it up again.

"You just turned around and walked away. Like you don't care about anything anymore. Like you didn't care about us anymore.“  _ Like you didn’t care about me anymore _ . Dean looks down on Sam. His walls are back up. It's all been said.

He turns his back on Sam. He knows he went too far, but the sting's too deep. 

"The reason I had to leave was  _ because _ I cared about you. The exact opposite is true, and I thought you knew that." Hurt, Sam looks at Dean. If only Dean understood.

But Dean just smiles pitifully at him. "Believe what you want, Sammy. Believe that you're better off hiding out here. I know who you are, I know  _ what _ you are.“ He whispers the last words into Sam's ear, before he opens the distance again. “And I never cared. I understand that you felt guilty. We all felt it! But don't tell me you left to do me a favor. Don't you dare. Translate this damn message for us so we can help that kid. And then you'll be rid of us again."

Dean leaves without turning around again.

  
  


Sam watches after Dean as he briskly circles the church. He should have realized that Dean can't forgive him. A crow comes back and flies above him, cawing as if laughing at him from high above.  _ You are a freak and will always be a failure _ ; it seems to mock him. He picks up a stone from the ground and looks at the black bastards. The stone rushes towards the crow in a flash and hits it hard. Angry and staggering, it flies away.

_ I know what you are _ . Sam laughs mockingly. How's Dean supposed to know if he doesn't know himself? Sam only knows one thing. Anyone who gets too close to him, anyone who means something to Sam, sooner or later gets hurt. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, why he has these dreams or these  _ gifts _ . All he knows is that he is poison. A poison that kills everything he cares about. And Sam would rather live a thousand years in Hell before anyone else dies because of him. Especially Dean.

Slowly he turns back to follow Dean. He heads for the small Inn of Salem, and stops short when he sees the three horses tied up in front. He recognizes Dean's horse immediately. Sam walks in front of the pitch black horse and strokes Baby's strong, dark neck.

"Hello Beauty. Remember me?" Baby pushes her head into Sam's side like she's responding. Sam strokes gently over her soft nose and forehead and whispers in her ear. "Watch over him."

Sam sighs and opens the door to the Inn. He is not three steps inside the small bar when he is almost knocked over by a young man.

"Sam! Sam!"

Instinctively, he grabs the young man firmly into a hug. He cradles Jack's face in his hands and stares at him with pleasure. "Goodness gracious, look at you! Jack Kline, you're almost grown!" Sam playfully takes Jack into a headlock. 

"Sam, let go!"

"Go for it!"

"Sam, I'm not a little boy anymore!"

"I can't hear you." Sam ruffles through Jack's hair and finally lets go of the young man. 

Sam looks over to the table and sees John and Dean sitting there with a pitcher of beer in front of each of them. For a moment he lets himself go and forgot why the four of them are meeting here. His mind darkens slightly and he takes a seat at the table with Jack.

"Okay, let's get started."

He feels Dean's gaze on him, but avoids looking at him. Instead, he turns to Jack and has to stop again. "You look  _ so _ much like your father." 

All four of them are silent for a moment. 

Sam clears his throat. "Okay, well then give me the note."

Jack reaches into his coat pocket and takes out the piece of paper. Sam accepts, but before he opens it he lets his gaze wander around the table and he does not miss the looks of the people at the table with him. Jack is excited, apparently wants to finally know what is written there. Dean tries to cover up his tension, he is still angry. John is... he is nervous, almost afraid, and Sam is irritated about that. Is John hiding something? 

Darleen, the waitress, is bringing Sam a mug of beer, too. Sam takes a deep swallow from his mug and then unfolds the sheet of paper. The handwriting is easy to read. Hastily, but deliberately written. He smoothes the crumpled paper and aside from the letters, tries to feel the emotions with which the note was written.

A woman, excited, uncertain or... too many different emotions, he can't feel it clearly. 

His eyes wander over the various symbols that form in his mind into letters and sentences as he reads. His mouth becomes a hard line. With every new word his anger grows. His hands clench the paper. He hears the bartender's horrified outcry as several glasses shatter in his display.

Dean looks worriedly over to him. "Sam?"

Sam's eyes are blue, in a depth that Dean has rarely seen, and he knows instantly that Sam is steaming with rage. 

Sam looks up from the paper and, one by one, he locks eyes with all three of them. He sticks to Dean, pierces him with his gaze. "Did you know?" He hisses the words more than he speaks them.

"Did I know what?", asks Dean in return.

"What's written in here?" Sam points at the note.

"No, how could I? I only found out about the news myself this morning. What about it? What does it say?"

Sam looks at John who is staring down at his beer mug.

"But you know it, don't you?"

"Sam." John is calm, but he reeks of guilt.

"You knew it all along!" He cries out angrily and tries to calm down again immediately. Sam needs to pull himself together. If his emotions get too out of control, bad things can happen.

Jack is concerned and looks anxiously back and forth between all three men. "Sam, please, what does it say?"

Sam glances briefly at Jack, then focuses on John again. "This is a call for help. No instruction, no prophecy. This describes the state of mind in this community right now. A priest appearing out of nowhere. Who creeps into the bishop's trust, speaks sweet words in his ear. The bishop seems to be out of his mind. Possessed by the idea of seeing God. They want to hold a ritual, a ritual to meet God, and for that they need a sacrifice, a  _ sinner touched by angels. _ According to the writing, this ritual is to be performed during the next full moon phase. On a sacred ground. And the bishop shall receive the seed of God. I don't know why this is happening to Jo, but they want to sacrifice her. And the next full moon phase is in six days." 

"Oh, my God." Jack collapses in his chair.

"Sam," Dean tries to process what he's heard. This can't be everything. Something is still unsaid, and it creeps him out. „What else does it say?"

Sam looks down on John. "The priest's eyes ... they glow yellow in the dark.“ Outraged, Sam jumps up from his chair, which crashes backwards. “You know exactly what it says here, John. You knew the moment you saw it. You knew how much time Jo had left and that you could risk going after me and Dean."

John looks at Sam with cold eyes. "And  _ will _ you come with us now?" He asks, motionless.

"What choice do I have?" Sam sounds desperate, but also defeated.

"Please tell me what I don't understand!" Jack's eyes are moist. Sam looks down at him sadly, then his eyes wander over to Dean. Dean's jaw is working and Sam senses that Dean really didn't know. But it hurts no less.

"This priest is possessed by a demon. We call him Yellow-Eyes." Sam's eyes also become teary and he looks at Jack. “He's the reason your father died. I'll go pack. We leave at dawn.“

Dean stands up and tries to reach out to Sam, but Sam flinches. "Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam stares into space for a moment. Then he turns around and leaves.

  
  
  
  


[](https://imgbb.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

Sam's room is located behind the small reading room in the church. A bed, just long enough for Sam's limbs, a wooden table, and a closet for his clothes. Across from Sam's bed hangs the simple cross that Pastor Jim gave him for his birthday.  _ With all the monsters you have encountered in your life, what makes you doubt that there is also a heaven. _

Sam could have told him many things about why he finds it hard to believe in God. And yet he was so touched by Pastor Jim's honest way, that he accepted the small cross and hung it over his bed for him to see whenever he was in the room. As he stuffs his clothes in his backpack, he hears a timid knock on his door. Surprised, he opens the door and sees Jack.

"May I?" Jack asks Sam quietly, and Sam opens the door further so that Jack can pass him and enter the room. 

"Is it okay if I join you for a few minutes?" Jack asks, as Sam walks back to the closet.

"Of course," Sam replies.

Jack watches him pack for a moment. Sam not only stows away clothes, but also small bags, some of which have an intense scent. "What do you need those for?" he asks curiously.

"For ointments, potions, anything else that can be useful." Sam winks at him.

Jack nods, but then gets serious. "Sam, I'm sorry. I really didn't want to force you to come with us."

Sam shoots Jack a forced smile. "Jack, it's not your fault." 

"It kind of is. After all, my goal was to find you all."

"Then at least you achieved your goal." This time Sam is really smiling.

"Sam, I had no idea what was going on. Or who... But Sam, since it's a really dangerous demon, I can't deny I'm relieved you're coming with us.“

Sam pauses, then he sits down next to Jack. "Jack, I don't know what the others have promised you, but we're not the group we once were. I'm not sure if we can really help."

"But Sam," Jack begs. “Who can, if not you? You were my heroes. I looked up to you. I wanted to be like you!“

"This is not a game, Jack.“ Sam is shaking his head.

"Don't you think I know that?“ Angrily, Jack jumps up from the bed.

"It's about my fiancé, Sam. The woman I love above all else! I would die for her, Sam. You know that feeling? That feeling that one person is the most important thing in your life? That one person worthy to travel to the ends of the earth and fight for until your last breath. That person who owns your heart. No matter what others say, no matter how crazy it sounds. This one person, who owns your soul and without whom you're only half? You know that?"

Sam looks up at him with tears in his eyes and Jack is startled to see how much pain lies in his eyes.

"Yeah, I know that feeling." 

They look at each other silently, and suddenly it's as if Jack realizes something that was right in front of him. "He didn't want you to come with us."

Irritated, Sam looks at Jack. "What do you mean?"

Jack's features are softening. "Dean. He cares about you. He really didn’t know about the note. He didn't mean to drag you into this. He and John had a fight on the way over here." 

Sam averts his expression from Jack, but Jack still sees enough to know that he had interpreted Sam's gaze correctly.

"John's always been above everyone else."

"I begged John to help me. And I begged all of you to help me. I feel guilty."

"It was wrong of John not to tell the truth immediately. But in the end, he's right. Jack, we owe it to your father. I was angry, but... if it really is a demon, if it really is  _ that _ demon, then we'll fight it. Together." Sam zips his pack. 

He will write a message for Pastor Jim, but he won't explain everything to him. The old man worries enough. Once again he looks around his small room, which has been his home for two years. Then he looks at Jack.

"It is still incomprehensible to me how much time has passed. There's a young man standing before me."

"Compared to the three of you, I feel like a boy."

"That's right!" Sam laughs as Jack looks at him protestingly. "But your heart's in the right place. Come on, let's get some sleep.“

XXXXX

  
  


After Sam had left and Jack said goodbye, John and Dean stayed for a while. They drink their beer in silence until John has finally had enough. "Say it."

Dean just looks stubbornly into his glass. "Come on."

"What do you want me to say, John?" Dean hisses at him. 

"You know I can't let that bastard get away."

"You don't even know if it's the same demon." Dean's clenching his jaw, teeth grinding.

"Does it matter? There's a monster holding a woman captive."

"That simple, is it?" sarcasm flowing from Dean's mouth.

"Dean..." John starts, but gets interrupted by Dean.

"No, John . You lied to me. You lied to Jack . You came here and made Sam believe he had a choice!“

"What else was I supposed to do? Would you have come back here with me if I told you?"

Dean snorts contemptuously.

"Dean, we need Sam. And I don't care how much longer he wants to bitch, it's time for him to leave his shell.“

"Don't you dare talk about him like that."

"Like what? The truth? That he let us down? That he just walked away? We have a chance to take that monster down and he owes it to us. He owes it to Jim."

"You still could have told me."

"I'm sorry, I really am. But we have to stick together now.“ John insists on Dean. “Dean, the four of us, all for one. It's always been our motto."

"I know." Dean is clear on one hand that John is right. But it still doesn't feel right. 

John looks at him questioningly. "Hey, what's this really about? I thought you wanted nothing more than the three of us back hunting together. Now all of a sudden you're against it?"

"I'm not saying that," avoids Dean.

"What  _ are _ you saying?"

"John, it's complicated."

"Is it? Dean, I'm not stupid or blind. And just so you know, I never was. You two and what's between you, I know that you have more than just  _ friendship _ ." Dean's cheeks blush and confirm that John is right. 

Dean hesitates a moment before speaking.

"I used to believe it too. Sam and me against the world. Come what may."

"What happened, Dean?"

Dean looks at John his face tortured. "You know what happend. Jim died. For us. And Sam... Sam didn't get over it. I tried everything. I begged him to stay. I... I told him how I felt about him, but still he left. Wanted to put all this behind him. The hunting, the family,  _ me _ ."

Dean's finishing his beer and rubbing his eyes. "And you know what the worst part is? Even though I know he doesn't want to go on this mission, I'm glad he is. I'm such a selfish bastard." Annoyed, he pushes the glass away and starts to stand up when John holds him back.

"No, you're not, Dean." John puts his hand on Dean's shoulder. "You're in love."

  
  


XXXXX

The sun sends its first rays against the darkness as the four riders and their horses meet at the end of the small town. Sam's mare is a piebald beauty, as Dean must acknowledge. 

John steps up to Sam. "Sam, I just wanted to..." 

But Sam waves him off. "No, John, you're right. This is personal. We have a chance to right the wrongs of the past. And we will. All for one, right?“ 

John smiles. "It's good to have you back, Son ." 

Sam glances at Dean. "Yeah, it’s good."

They sit up and slowly trot out of town. 

"Are we following the creek?" Sam asks John as he rides beside him, with Dean and Jack trailing behind.

John lowers his voice. "I was honestly thinking about saving time and energy."

Sam looks at him questioningly. 

John points with a nod to Dean behind them, then back at Sam. "What do you think about riding to Memphis?"

Sam hesitates for a moment and tries to to figure out what John is trying to make him understand. When he realizes it, his eyes become big. "Do you think about...?"

"Yep."

"He'll hate you."

"Not if  _ you _ tell him.“ John smiles at Sam.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Seriously?"

"What are you talking about up ahead?" Dean shouts, curious. 

Sam yells over his shoulder. " Figuring out the fastest way. And if there's some nice food."

Satisfied, Dean leans back in the saddle and looks over to Jack. "As long as there's pie."

Jack rolls his eyes and with the sun behind him they ride off. 

United for the first time in four years. They have work to do.

  
  
  


They leave Salem headed southeast, pass Horseshoe Bend and Ash Flat. 

Shortly after that, they take the eastern route to Hardy, and Dean eventually realizes that they are not travelling south by a direct route. The "animated conversation" as Dean would call it, or the "it's a fucking steamboat Dean, not a killing machine" discussion; as Sam will call it later, continues throughout the evening until they stop in a sheltered clearing near the Springfield River.

And even if the discussion starts up again and again while eating, - „It's on the water, Sam“ - „You're behaving like a three-year-old, Dean“ - ; John can't avoid it. Leaning against a tree trunk, he looks at them with fascination. As if nothing had happened, as if their time apart hadn't existed. Contrary to everything, it seems almost like before. They argue, laugh, and in the end, they stick together like glue and brimstone. Let them hate him for lying to them. Seeing them together again was worth it.

  
  


Sam will take the first watch. He meditates as he has been practicing every evening for almost three and a half years, opening his mind and his intellect. The cracking of a branch next to him makes him open his eyes briefly. He has already noticed Dean some time ago. But to feel his body now so close to his own makes him interrupt his meditation. He can no longer concentrate.

"Does that help?" Dean asks a little bit mockingly.

"To me it does," Sam replies.

Dean lies on his back, arms crossed behind his head and looks up into the starry sky. Sam looks down at him for a moment. The small fire, which is supposed to keep wild animals away but not attract people, casts shadows on Dean's face. 

He has become even prettier, Sam thinks, and with a little sigh he leans back as well

"You realize our money's not gonna get us all the way to New Orleans, right?" Dean looks at Sam with one eye open.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I would be leaving town overnight, or I surely would have put more aside." Sam answers sarcastically.

"Hey, don't fuck with me!" 

Sam sighs. "I'm sorry, it's all just a lot to me right now." He supports himself with his elbows again and looks over to the two other sleeping partners. "I have the feeling that my thoughts no longer come to rest. My back hurts and my ass as well. Yesterday, my daily routine was clear, and today? There's John back and Jack and... you." He looks over to Dean, who turns to his side and supports his head with his hand.

"Sammy, I know it's a lot. But we finally have a chance to catch him.“ 

"I know."

"We'll find him, together. And then we're gonna take that bastard down once and for all."

Sam turns to Dean. His knee knocks against Dean's. "You think he still has it?"

"What?“

Sam rolls his eyes and looks over to John. "You know exactly what I mean."

Dean inhales audibly. "Sam, the Revolver has exactly one bullet, and will pierce either Yellow Eyes or John's head.“ Dean also sits up directly opposite Sam and their legs touch. "Yes, I think he still has it." Dean whispers and looks at his own hands.

Sam looks at Dean for a long time. It's still incomprehensible to him that he's actually sitting across from Dean.

Sam's hand wanders up to Dean's knee and taps him. "How are you really?"

Dean looks up into Sam's eyes for a moment , but then looks past him again and shrugs his shoulders. "What do you want to hear? I get by.“

"You really hunt alone?"

"What's wrong with that? I'm not a little boy anymore!"

"I didn't say that either." Sam tries to stay calm and keep his hand on Dean's knee.

"It's what I can do Sam. And I'm good at it. I hunt, I gamble, and yes, maybe I drink too much. But I do my job.“

Dean feels Sam flinch and he pulls his hand away. "Sam, I know you disagree. But don't you miss this?“ He points his fingers around. “This, being on the road again, with John, with me?" The last word almost goes unheard and Dean nervously rubs his hands on his pants.

"Of course I miss you both. I just don't think that's all there is. Always on the road, no home, no destination after the hunt, always fearing the next job will be the last. You and John were a unit before me. You didn't need me.“ 

„What the fuck are you talking about? Of course we needed you! You're smart and strong and you know these crazy things and formulas and your little tricks aren't so bad either." Dean winks at him. „Your knife is a deadly weapon and you saved mine and John's ass more than once."

Sam smiles and reminisces.

"We were a good team, Sam." Dean looks directly into Sam's eyes for the first time in a long time. "We still are!"

Sam looks back at him and it becomes unnaturally quiet. They're both thinking the same thing, but neither of them can say it out loud. They were a unit. But more than that. It was never enough. Admiration, friendship, and brotherhood suddenly became passion, devotion, desire.

Dean licks his lips, can't take his eyes off Sam. Four years,  _ four years  _ have passed, but one look into those hazel eyes and the volcano inside him erupts again. 

"Dean." Sam's whisper is like a scream in silence, he looks alternately between Dean's green eyes and his full, curved lips, which are shiny from his tongue darting out to lick them.

The wind howls and makes the flames of the fire beat higher, Sam shivers and

it reminds him why it was a bad idea for him to leave his town. He clears his throat and stands up to walk around. Dean also needs a moment to calm his pulse, and adjust the uncomfortable tightness in his pants.

  
  
  
  


They reach Memphis two days later around noon. The city is buzzing with activity. Carriages hurry past, and smoke billows from the factory chimneys. The four of them head for the harbor. Sam notices how the increasing number of people worries him. He is simply no longer used to the city. Or maybe the city isn't used to someone like him. At the harbour they get a short overview. Countless tavernas, inns, and quite clearly brothels, line up close together. Dean smiles over to Sam. And Sam cannot help but smile back.

Unlike Sam, Dean is in his element. He has never been shy, always got into conversations with people quickly. It's all superficial, but when you only need brief information anyway and usually disappear without a trace the next day, it's the perfect way to behave.

Many fishing boats line the small jetties that jut into the Mississippi River, but at the back, almost at the end of the pier, there she lies.  _ The 'Pennsylvania.' _ Currently the fastest steamboat to glide across the river. Majestically, it towers above all other ships. The big paddle wheel shines red in the sun. 

On John's signal, he rides ahead with Jack, while Sam convinces Dean to look for two rooms for the night, where they don't run the risk of sharing the room with cockroaches, thieves, or prostitutes, although he has to make his point on the latter. 

They finally take two rooms at the "Best View Inn" -because it has the best view- and pay for the night with cash from Dean's "trading business". 

They move into their room and both enjoy the luxury of fresh water to cleanse their dusty bodies. Sam puts on some fresh clothes and runs his fingers through his still wet hair. "So how are we gonna get the money for the crossing?"

"Are you kidding?" Dean, also dressed in a quite new pair of blue Jeans, a long-sleeved brown shirt, and a black cord vest, stretches out his arms like he wants to say  _ El Dorado is right in front of me _ ! "Take a look around! It's swarming with day laborers and sailors and idiots! It'll be a piece of cake."

"Please, Dean, don't turn this into another freakin' betting game."

"I'm not running a stupid betting game, Sam." Dean looks at Sam, winking. "I'm doing the surefire,  _ -always-functioning _ -drunk cowboy game!"

God, how Dean had missed Sam's bitchface.

"You mean the game that got fucked up last time?" Sam crosses his arms and he actually manages to increase the level of his bitch face.

"Just like that." Dean beams at him.

"No way." Sam's mouth smirks and Dean finds it almost cute how fast he can still drive Sam out of his mind.

"Hey, I've been improving it and tweaking it. Nothing can go wrong."

"Dean something always goes wrong because some idiot already knows the game!"

"He won't!"

"It's a shit idea, but at least wait for John!" Annoyed, Sam rubs his forehead.

"I don't need any help! I`ve managed for four years without you. I always get by, so let me fucking do my job."

"You're an idiot."

"And screw you!" Angrily, Dean stomps past Sam, ramming his shoulder into Sam's broad, well-muscled chest.  _ What?!  _


	9. Chapter 9

Dean roams the narrow streets of the waterfront. The smell of salt, fish, and urine is in the air. Fishing nets are hung out to dry, and two cats fight over a fish head. He loves this smell. A saloon is ahead of him, and he strolls slowly in its direction. To Hell with the others. Somebody has to make sure that the money comes in. Sure, they want to get on the boat, but he is the one that can make it happen. He kicks a stone at the two cats that are hissing angrily at him. He has no idea where John and Jack are and he doesn't care. He works well alone. To Hell with Sam. To Hell with his damn beautiful hazel eyes. Dean doesn't need pity. To Hell with his hair, which smells so good, especially if Dean secretly buries his nose in it in the morning.

He stops for a moment and collects himself.

"Pull yourself together, Dean." He has a job to do here. Jack needs it, John needs it and, as he already mentioned, the Hell with Sam.

Dean puts on his most charming smile and pushes open the saloon's swinging doors. The smell of cigars and heavy perfume immediately gets into his nose. Mmm… home sweet home.

He goes straight to the bar, orders a beer, and studies the situation. A few already heavily drunk customers linger with him at the long, wooden counter. Women, all ages and physiques, are working to earn their living. A group of three men does not escape his view. Although drunk, but always looking into the room, he has to keep an eye on them. And the classic big mouth, loud and booming, oh hello braggart.

No sooner has he sipped his drink than he has a new "friend" touching his arm. 

"Hello, handsome. What brings you to Memphis?"

Always the same, flattering and questioning. What do you do, how much money do you have on you, is it worth it?

Dean almost gives in. The girl is in her early twenties, but her eyes have already seen too much for her age. "My name is Dean. And you, beautiful?"

„Tammy, darling, but you can call me whatever you want.“

Dean laughs loudly to make sure that the Loud Chatterer and also the three Scarecrows have noticed him. In his deepest Texan accent, he babbles loudly to himself. "I knew this was gonna be a great time here. My old man is such a scaredy-cat."

"Why, my sweet?" Tammy becomes very affectionate and the deep neckline of her corset touches his shirt. Casually, he turns around and looks into the room, turning his hips forward. It is important that a few of them notice his Colt.

"Well, because he's an idiot. He thinks I can't take care of myself. Pfft. The few deals I did today were easy. I've earned my reward."

"And now you got it, you lucky guy." Tammy is already too sure of herself, and even Big Mouth is slowly becoming careless.

"Mr. Bartender, the lady would like a drink.“ Dean generously pulls out the bundle of bank notes and puts ten dollars on the counter. Quickly, he lets the remaining notes - which actually only seem to consist of a few dollars and mostly paper - disappear again.

But it was enough. Tammy purrs like a cat on his chest, and Big Mouth comes closer.

"First time here?"

Dean looks at him from the side for a second. His face is long like a horse and his teeth are crooked, except for the two gaping holes where teeth used to be. 

. 

"Yes Sir, first time on my own here."

It turns his stomach to address Horse Face as Sir, but it is important to stay in the role.

"Nice Colt you got there."

"Thank you Sir, my daddy gave it to me."

"Can you handle it? Or is it just for show?" Laughter erupts around Dean. He's got an audience.

"You bet I can handle it. I'm a damn good shot!"

"You know, Dean, if you're so good, how would you like to play a game?" It's too easy. Dean almost feels sorry for him. 

"What kind of game?" Dean looks at the guy with big, wide, questioning eyes. 

"A little bet between friends. Four glasses, four shots, you shoot the glass before the glass hits the floor. If you don't, I win."

Dean looks at him mockingly. "That's all? It's a piece of cake."

"The bet is five dollars a glass."

"So what? I've taken more than enough today." For show, he hits his money roll with his hand - well, the paper bundle, in his pocket.

"So if you're sooo sure," whispers Horse Face . "There's an adult version, of course, but we don't want to put you through too much."

" You're kidding? Of course I'll take the adult version." With a cocky grin he looks at Tammy. "I have my lucky charm right here beside me."

Tammy giggles. "You're so sweet, Dean. I believe in you." 

"So, what's the other version?"

"Well, the glasses are pre-filled with our best schnapps." Again laughter goes through the room, and a small group has formed. "You drink up, throw the glass behind you, turn around and shoot. Oh, and the stakes are naturally higher, twenty a glass."

Dean swallows and coughs. "Twenty?"

Horse Face laughs. "Like I said, this is only for grown-ups."

Dean looks at Tammy, who looks back at him with sad eyes. Acting like he thinks about it before he announces loudly "What the Hell, I'm in."

An outcry goes through the saloon and Horse Face yells out at the crowd: „A new game, a new chance! So, who is betting against it 5:1? Come on, bets are open."

A few people are pulling out their money. To the first glass. 

Dean winks at Tammy. "Well, don't I get a kiss for good luck?"

"Oh, sure, my sweet." She presses her crimson lips against Dean's and Dean returns the kiss. During this time, the bartender lines up the four glasses and begins to pour the clear, home-made schnapps.

Dean turns and stares at the glasses. "Wait a minute, those aren't shots!"

In front of him stand four glasses, a beer mug, a water glass, a whiskey glass, and a shot glass. All four are filled to the rim.

"We didn't say that either, friend."

"I can't possibly drink this! This was not part of the deal!" From the corner of his eye he sees the three figures approaching. 

"What, are you trying to say we're cheating?! Four glasses was the rule, nobody said anything about the size!"

Dean swallows and tries to assess the situation. All three of them are spread out in the saloon, no way to run. And all three make it clear that they don't just wear their guns for decoration.

"Dean, sugar, you can do this." Tammy runs her hands through Dean's hair and Dean realizes that he has no choice.

"Well then, shall we?" He takes the beer glass in his hand and starts.The schnapps burns like fire in his throat and more than once he has to stop to cough. All under the roar of the guests' laughter.

"He'll never make it." Someone yells. 

The schnapps burns through his stomach and comes crawling up again. Finally, after an eternity, the glass is empty. Dean breathes heavily. He cradles the glass in his hand. 

Concentrate. Then he holds his breath. Throws the glass high over his shoulder, turns around in a flash, pulls his Colt, and the bullet shatters the glass into a thousand pieces. 

"Woohoo! " Dean raises his fist.

"That was just luck, " murmurs one of the guests, and Dean has to hold on to the counter for a moment to keep from falling.

Is he on the damn boat yet? Why is the room spinning?

Oh, yeah, because he's had an entire glass full of booze. He sends Tammy a wide smile.

"He's done, let's go." Bets are placed again. 

That water glass doesn't look like much more. It's tiny, actually. Oops, did he say that out loud? He bravely reaches for the glass.

"Here we go." Don't think, just drink. When empty, he puts the glass down and burps. "Sssssorry." He's grinning at Tammy. "You're so beautiful, soooo beautiful."

"I know, Sweetie , I know."

Dean's still beaming at her.

"Honey, you gotta shoot!"

"Da what?"

"You have to shoot the glass."

Dean keeps staring at her, then reality seems to come back to him. "Ooh,the glass,yeah,yeah,yeah.“ Dean takes the glass back in his hand, inhales deeply, and throws the glass backwards. The glass tumbles and spins, and almost hits the floor before Dean's bullet shatters it.

"Holy crap, I hit it!" Dean giggles and convulses with laughter. He drunkenly clings to Tammy, "Did you see that, did you see that?"

The three wannabe sheriffs look at each other questioningly, but shrug their shoulders. "He's drunk as a skunk. He'll never do it again."

Again bets are placed, and again Dean turns to the glass. He tries to reach for it, but somehow it escapes him. "Stop, you son of a bitch!"Finally he gets a hold of it with both hands."That little minx."

He puts the glass up to his lips, tilts it in one go, and almost falls over backwards. Tammy and Horse Morse Schmorse reach out to grab him. 

Dean comes forward, grabs Tammy, and kisses her harshly. "I love you Sammy!" 

Oh fuck! "Tammy, I mean Tammy!" 

Fuck, get out of my head you tall, stupid idiot ! 

"I do looooove you! All of you!" Stop it brain, shush!

"Oh, Sweetheart , I think I'll give you the discount price.“ Tammy laughs. 

"Okay, where were we? Oh, yes, shooting."

Exuberantly, he throws the glass behind him until he thinks of it and has to turn around. He pulls his gun, the shot shoots through the glass and almost hits one of the three party poopers. 

"Whoopsie."

"I'm gonna kill that guy."

"Leave him alone. Come on. Look at him." 

Dean puts his head on the counter. It's kind of late, isn't it? 

"Dean, honey, you can't sleep yet."

"But I want to so bad."

"In a minute, just one more glass."

"That's right, Kid , it's all or nothing, let's double it again."

"Can't I have a glass of milk, please?"

Dean puts on his brightest smile, but Horse Man doesn't smile back. 

Dean sighs heavily. "Oh, well." He turns to the shot glass and starts giggling again.

"Well, aren't you a little glass, such a sweet little glass. Come to Papa." Dean sticks out his tongue and lets the clear liquid run down his throat. 

Then he kisses the glass and throws it up into the air. With a smile on his face, he turns around and has his finger on the trigger as he stops, as if rooted to the ground.

"Well, that was nothing."

The guy who appeared out of nowhere stands in front of him, looking at him condescendingly. Tall, angry, and stupid. In his hand, between two fingers he's holding Dean's shot glass. "I'm sorry, but I guess the round's on me." He said in a deep voice. 

Dean's jaws grinds angrily. "Are you sure about that?" At that moment a shot is fired from Dean's Colt and the shot glass shatters between the fingers of the stranger.

"It wasn't on the ground, so, by my definition, I win.“

Bigfoot's eyes narrow to slits. Dean ignores him, turning to the guy with the cash. 

"I think that's mine," he smiles at him. Dean takes the wad from the surprised man's hand and starts counting. 

In the saloon it gets noticeably quieter and the mood becomes dark. Tammy is also clearly nervous. Dean notices the three monkeys making their way over to him as something cold is pressed against his temple.

Dean isn't drunk enough not to realize that it's a gun. He swallows audibly. "Hey, buddy, we're just having a little game here. Why don't you order the next round, my treat, and we’ll call it a night."

The Colt's safety is released. "Or you and I can just go outside and have a little chat and only one of us will come back in, Dean Singer or Dean Washington or Dean Jefferson, whoever you are right now."

The three guys make room and Dean is pushed forward, roughly.

"This won't take long. This little squirrel and I have unfinished business, so order me a beer. I'll make it quick.“

"Let him bleed, the son of a bitch." hisses the horses' heads and Dean puts up his fists.

"Come on, Jolly Green Giant, let's dance."

"Sorry, Dean, but the handbill says dead or alive and I've had enough of your crap.“

Roughly, Dean is pushed outside. The laughter in the saloon is loud. Dean is angry and drunk.

One hand clutches his neck and pushes him further forward. This paw just won't let go of him and, hello, still drunk. When he is pushed into the dark alley, Dean gets really annoyed. He tries stubbornly to free himself from the guy's grip.

"Let me go Sasquatch, and what's with the squirrel comment, Hey , do I look like a rodent to you? 

"Uhhf." Dean is crushed against the nearest building.

"You know I just saved your ass in there?" Sam's eyes flash at him. "And maybe you do remind me of a little squirrel with your little pointy ears, your cute nose, and your bushy tail."

"I had everything under control, and my dick is none of your business." Dean pouts. 

" Oh my god, You're really drunk? Damn it, Dean, do you know how close that was?"

"Wouldn't have been if you'd come along!" He is still angry, and drunk for crying out loud.

"That's not how the trick works." Sam pins Dean on the wall, rage in his eyes. 

"Let me go bitch."

"I don't think so, jerk."

One, two, three seconds they just stare at each other and then, the dam breaks. Their lips find each other. Dean opens his mouth, lets his tongue slide over Sam's lips, his cock reacting immediately. He presses his hips against Sam's and feels how excited he also is.

Sam's hands grip Dean's hips and slide under his shirt and over his naked skin.

Sam tastes the cheap booze on Dean's tongue, but it only turns him on more. Dean presses himself against Sam, his mind is clouded, but all his senses are aware. "I want you." Dean's hands wander over Sam's black leather pants, pressing against the hard bulge that shows him unmistakably how much Sam desires him, too. He buries his head in Sam's neck, kisses, bites, and licks over the warm, sensitive skin.

Sam moans, puts his hand on the back of Dean's head, pulls him closer as his other hand clasps Dean's waist. He has to make sure that this is real, that Dean is really in his arms again. The person who means more to him than anything in this world. 

"Dean, I had to go, you don't know how hard it was to actually leave you. How the look on your face broke my heart." It streams out of Sam, words that have been unspoken for so long and can no longer be kept secret. "I had to protect you. From myself. I had to find myself, understand what I wanted. I wanted to tell you over and over again, keep looking for you to tell you that I ...Dean?"

Dean's breath caresses Sam's neck steadily and easily.

"Dean?" Sam rolls his eyes. Seriously? "I laid my heart out in front of you and you fall asleep?"

"Sammmy, just five minutes."

Carefully, Sam leans Dean against the wall. He places his hand over Dean's cheek. "Come on, hero, let's get you home." He reaches under Dean's arms and pulls him up.

"Sammy, I think I'm drunk."

"Oh, you don't say?" Slowly, they walk back to the Inn. 

"But, I'm still the best shot around.“ He presses his lips against Sam's ear. "I'm Butch Cassidy!" He proudly proclaims. 

Sam stops for a moment and looks at Dean with affection. "Yeah Dean, you're Butch Cassidy! Now come on, let's take you home.“


	10. Chapter 10

After their arrival in Memphis, Jack stays with John. They arrange the crossing for both themselves and the horses. Jack gulps for a moment when asked about the payment, but John just replies that this will not be a problem. 

They spend the evening together and John remembers a good place to eat. How John knew exactly where to go is a mystery, but the stew was delicious, the beer is fresh, and Jack is happy with that. Jack asks about Sam and Dean, but John just says that they had a job to do and Jack should not ask any more questions. 

So they spend the evening together, enjoy their meal, and Jack answers all of John’s questions regarding his education and his future plans.

John himself is rather reserved when it comes to answering questions, but after three beers John finally told Jack a little more about the past. He explains how he met Jack's father during a battle with some men.

"I almost lost the fight, I fought three guys, not monsters, just beasts in human form.

And like out of nowhere, your father was there. He didn't have to interfere, but he took them bastards down one by one. It was like heaven had sent him.“ John brushes the beer froth out of his beard. “ He and I, we were like fire and water but surprisingly it worked. Your father could fight as well as philosophize. We argued constantly. He always saw the good in everything, believed in family, in God, in humanity. I had lost all faith. I saw things you can't forget and was without aim.“ John looks around the crowded room. "On the first night, I explained to your father what I was doing, and of course he didn't believe me. And yet he came with me to a vampire nest. My original job. We fought until the last head fell from the creatures' torsos. And your father looked at me, the blood of the dead vampires on his body, and I knew he would come with me."

Jack looks down sadly. "He gave us up for the excitement of the hunt."

Thoughtful, John looks over to Jack. "Never think that Jack. Your father wanted to protect you from what's out there. He could no longer find peace knowing that these creatures exist and threaten people like you and your mother." John puts his hand on Jack's shoulder. "He loved you and your mother very much. Please don't think for a second that he didn't."

"As a child, I never understood why my mother forgave him. She had to raise me alone. We were ridiculed, and my father was made out to be a criminal. There were times when I hated him." Jack looks down. After a moment he continues talking. "When you came and told us... When I realized he was really never coming back home, I was so angry."

"I remember," John replies, squeezing Jack's shoulder even harder. 

"Mother was so desperate," Jack continues. "I didn't know what to do. I tried to be the man I needed to be. I studied so hard, trying to become the best student. John, I wanted to prove to her that I was good. And not the wayward son of the criminal Jim Novak." 

"And now?" John asks, and Jack looks up at John again.

"Now I would give anything to tell him how much I admire him. That I finally realized what he sacrificed. That I believe what kind of horror still exists. I understand what love means and what you're willing to do for it. John, I would do anything for Jo and to protect her."

John takes his hand off Jack's shoulder and wipes his eyes, lifts his beer mug, and toasts with Jack. "To love."

"To love," Jack replies, and takes a sip as well. 

  
  
  


In the morning, Jack enters the small dining room of the Inn and looks for Sam and Dean. John ia already on his way, first to get the tickets and then to "meet friends". Jack is still worried about how they would pay for the expensive crossing, but John just laughs and says he trusts his boys. And obviously he’s right, because after the quick breakfast he goes over to Sam and Dean's room and after that he goes straight to the harbor, coming back with the passes not an hour later.

Jack finds the two men at one of the long, wooden tables. Dean looks like death warmed over. His eyes are bloodshot, and he seems even paler than usual.

Sam doesn't look like he had a good night's rest either, but he's not as green as Dean.

"Good morning." He sits down with them and also gets a cup of hot and steamy coffee. 

Sam looks up at him, a friendly smile on his face, then turns his gaze back to the newspaper lying in front of him while Dean stares stubbornly into his cup.

"Is everything okay?" Jack asks anxiously, but only gets a "Peachy" mumbled back from Dean.

Undeterred, he continues. "John has the tickets for the steamer, we board in one hour. The horses must be loaded first, then we can move into the cabins. The steamer itself leaves in four hours."

Dean puts the cup down and holds his head. "Maybe I should just ride behind. I don't like the idea of Baby being cooped up down there."

Sam's folding the paper, as if he expected the comment. "And lose more time? Dean, it's the fastest way to get to New Orleans. And above all, get there rested. We can take our time and figure out what to do. I tried to get some reports on the church, and I want to go over the note some more."

"Do what you gotta do."

Sam crosses his arms. "Oh, sorry that I like to be prepared. I've never been on the scene, and I just like to get more information."

"Do you have to talk so loud?"

"Did you have to drink so much?" Sam replies. 

"Do we have enough money for the passage or not? Sweetheart, you're ungrateful."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm ungrateful? I dragged your carcass three blocks back to the hotel while you were bawling out some Seaman songs!"

"I just want to stress that I did all the work!" Dean pouts.

"I thought you enjoyed it!"

"Still, hard work."

Sam looks apologetically at Jack." Anyway, we're gonna pack up and get on that damn steamer."

"Baby doesn't like the water." Dean sulks.

Jack looks at him, confused "What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying that she's used to us riding, and now she's going to be locked up for three days without being able to move. On a floating monster, on a river, without rest, or solid ground under her hooves, and..."

"Dean's afraid to go on the steamer." interrupts Sam amused. 

"I am not afraid!" Dean protests too loudly. "I just have this little problem with not being ashore."

"Dean", Sam tries again in a softer tone, "A ship in general is a perfectly safe transport."

"So is Baby !" argues Dean. 

"You’re driving me crazy!"

"Your face is driving me crazy!"

"Hey!" Jack shouts angrily and slaps his hand on the table. "The love of my life is being held by a crazy bishop, a demon-possessed priest, and a mad nun, to be sacrificed for some ritual in five days. Can you two stop fighting like an old, married couple and get the hell on this fucking boat right now!"

Sam and Dean look at him, both speechless. Until Sam says " Technically, it's a paddlewheel steamer."

Jack gets up with a desperate cry of rage and leaves the room, stomping his feet.

Dean takes another sip of his coffee. "Did he just call us old?"

  
  
  
  
  
  


A good hour later the four men stand with their horses in front of the large freighter hatch of the steamship. The Pennsylvanian is a side wheeler steamboat capable of carrying a full 486 tons of cargo. The cub-pilot Samuel Clemens controls the loading of the animals at the wide gangway and explains the way to the narrow horse boxes. Dean remains, for his circumstances, very taciturn. He never lets his black mare out of his sight for a moment and strokes her mane constantly. The boxes are covered with fresh straw, and hay and water are already available. Five more horses have room in the large cargo hold.

Dozens of trunks and furniture, building materials and goods, everything is safely loaded for the journey. After the horses have been unsaddled and groomed, Sam and John decide to watch the steamboat leaving the dock. Dean prefers to stay with Baby - to calm her down, as he emphasizes several times. Sam puts his hand on Dean's back for a moment and asks if he should stay. But Dean waves away. "I'm fine."

Jack decides to stay behind, too. "We can go up as soon as the horses calm down, right? 

Dean hesitates briefly, but agrees with him.

Sam and John take their luggage and climb up the iron steps to the floor with the small cabins. Due to Dean's successful "Sports Bet," two simple cabins on the lower floors could be afforded, each with a Queen bed and a small porthole. Again Sam moves into his room with Dean. For a moment his gaze falls on the queen-sized bed. How many nights did they spend in these types of beds as teenagers, always in a different place, always looking for monsters and creatures that needed to be eliminated. And Sam thinks back to the nights when it was just the two of them. Secrets that were exchanged under the cover of the blanket. Until secrets became touching and lip service became more real than they ever dared to dream.

  
  


Sam smiles and shakes his head as if he could exorcise the thoughts in it.

He leaves the small cabin, knocks next door to signal John that he's ready, and together they go up to the main deck. The steamer's boiler is already under pressure and the lines are loose. Slowly the large paddlewheel at the stern begins to turn.

For a moment they both forget the serious purpose of their journey and watch, fascinated at how the ponderous iron colossus ploughs through the water.

Sam can't suppress the glow on his face, and even John lets his eyes wander over the Mississippi. Most of the guests are already back below deck, but the two men continue to walk forward. The wind picks up again, and the sun warms their faces. 

"We should take advantage of the crossing and prepare ourselves." John seems to have decided that enough time has been spent staring at their surroundings.

"Have you ever been to New Orleans?" Sam asks as they look ahead.

"Twice," John remembers." You guys haven't been to my place yet. It's an exciting city, full of contrasts. I hope to meet a friend there who can help us."

Sam chuckles. "Is there any place where you don't have an old friend?

But John just laughs and leaves the question open.

  
  
  


Meanwhile, below deck, Dean is busy trying to "calm Baby down."

The roar of the heavy machines doesn't let Jack hear everything Dean whispers into Baby's ear, but Jack can't help but try to distract Dean by any means. After he has learned all the details of coat care, saddle quality, and shoe choice from Dean, he is at his wit's end. 

Luna's head nestles against Jack's chest and he strokes her velvety nose. "Dean, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure." Dean leans against the stall door and tries to ignore the soft rocking of the steamer.

"How did you and John meet Sam??" 

Dean's eyes darken. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep, I just thought..."

Dean looks down at Baby's hooves.

"I always knew it was fate that brought us together..." Dean sits down on one of the solid hay bales and Jack sits right next to him.

"Sam is special," Dean begins. "To understand Sam, you must know that for years, everyone around Sam had made him feel that he was bad luck. The little boy who ruined the crops. The bad omen that let the sheriff die. The crows swooping down on the fields whenever Sam appeared.“

Dean will never forget the day he and John found Sam. A boy full of fear, too thin for his size, half-naked, sitting on a horse, with a rope strung around his neck and a raging, roaring crowd around him. It was like time stood still. Dean saw the boy first, their eyes found each other; in all the chaos surrounding him, and Dean knew in that moment, that he would kill every single one of them if anything happened to that boy. 

It didn't matter to him why the kid was hanging from that tree, why the deadly noose was tightening around his neck, Dean would save him even if he gave his own life for him. John yelled at the angry mob and Dean rode towards Sam. His heels dig into Baby's sides, the young mount that had only recently become his prized possession, and he rode towards this tree as if Hell was on his heels. His eyes were staring at the young kid, who had the biggest and most vulnerable eyes Dean had ever seen. A man saw the two strange riders and noticed Dean riding toward them at a wild gallop. With a grin on his face, the guy lifted his arm, the long crop in his hand, and brought it down on the hindquarters of the horse in front of him. Driven by fear and pain, the nag sprinted forward and Sam, his hands tied behind his back, had no chance. 

The rope stretched and Sam was pulled backwards from the horse's back. He shook in fear as the noose tightened. Dean felt the wind roaring and the branches of the tree moving as if the tree wanted to help, but, despite his starved appearance, Sam's long body was too heavy. Dean shouted from the top of his lungs "No!"

Sam's eyes locked with Dean's and he saw every emotion in them, fear, acceptance, resignation. Dean acted purely on instinct. He let go of the reins, trusting his young steed, and reached out to the lifeless body. Suddenly, he held a warm body in his arms and heard a voice screaming without realizing that it was his own. "Cut him loose, John." 

Then Sam sank deeper into his arms, and Dean held the boy's body protectively as they rode away, while he whispered to him again and again. "I got you, I'll take care of you, please stay with me." Weakly, Sam opened his eyes and looked up. Green, blue, golden eyes reflecting the grass, the sky, and the sun. The most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Sam smiled before he gave in to the shock and relief and passed out. Sam knew that Dean was keeping him safe. 

  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

The banks of the Mississippi River glide slowly and steadily past Sam. Lights and torches make huts appear in the darkness. Sam supports his forearms on the wooden railing. In front of him, the bow of the  _ Pennsylvania _ divides the black-looking water of the river. The lights of the steamer are on and offer the only source of light in the otherwise pitch black night. 

They've been on the water for two days, and the mood is getting more tense with every moment. Too many people in too small a space. No space to discuss their plan in peace. John and Jack are sharing what they know about the city. There's not much to know about the Order itself. After the first night, it's clear they're not considering the "we just knock" approach. Much to Dean's displeasure. 

And that's the second problem. Sam and Dean. Ever since that kiss in the alley, there's tension emanating from them that's been palpable. But whenever Sam tries to talk to Dean, he dodges, lightening the mood with an anecdote from the old days. 

Like two lions held captive in a small cage. They eye each other, circle each other, but always at a safe distance. 

Sam can't blame Dean. He was the one who left, and it's obvious how much he hurt Dean when he did. But if they're gonna survive this fight together, they have to learn to trust each other once again. 

Sam was hoping a quiet chat in his room would clear things up. But again, Dean chose to delay the moment as long as possible. After dinner, he disappears below deck to play cards with members of the crew. 

When Dean finally comes staggering into their small cabin, he smells of alcohol and cigarettes. Sam senses the bed moving. He feels the warm body next to him, and Sam wants nothing more than to turn around and hold Dean in his arms. Just for one moment. But he stays in his position and they both keep pretending to sleep. How can they be so close together and yet so far apart?

A light breeze blows towards him and Sam notices how his white linen shirt blows up from the wind and pulls at his leather cord around his neck. He takes a sip of whiskey from his glass. Sam shivers. Which is very rare, as he seems to have his own fire inside him. But he shivers at the thought of the next few days. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a figure emerging from the shadow of the deck.

"Can't sleep either, Jack?"

Relieved, Jack steps up beside him. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Sam raises his glass like a greeting. "No, actually I like a little company." Sam senses Jack's embarrassment. "What's on your mind, Jack?"

"I... I`m scared. I'm scared that all the effort we put in will be in vain. That we will arrive and she..."

Sam puts his hand on Jack's back.

"We're going to save her, Jack. They won't hurt her until the ritual. Look up. The moon is not full yet, we have the time and we will use it."

  
  


Jack's looking at Sam. "Thank you all so much. I can see how hard you're trying. I was hoping to bring you all back together, to be a team again, like you used to be."

"Jack, you can't force this."

"And yet here you are! You're risking your lives for her, even though you don't even know Jo. How can I ever repay you?

"Stop it. We're doing this for you too, Jack." Sam waves his glass for emphasis.

"And for my father," Jack whispers.

Sam swallows hard. "Yes, for him too. After your father died, I wanted to put all this behind me. No vampires, no demons, I just wanted to help people. But I always knew there was one thing that would bring me back.“

"The yellow-eyed demon."

"Right."

"Why couldn't you pursue him further?"

"We thought we had him beaten. We weren't sure. For four years I checked every newspaper I could get my hands on for signs of him, but he vanished off the face of the earth.“

"Sam," Jack chews on his bottom lip, waging his words. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Sam looks at him gently. "What do you need, Jack?"

"Sam, for four years I've been asking myself the same question every night and no one, not my Mom, or John, or Dean will answer it." Jack looks sadly at the river.

"Why your father had to die?" Sam's voice is like a whisper above the light waves.

Jack just nods at him. 

Sam's heart lies heavy in his chest. He takes his hand from Jack's back and empties the glass before placing it on the deck at his feet. Sam holds the railing with both hands. Like a life preserver, he clasps it. The pain is written all over Sam's face and he can't look at Jack as he says the next words. "Because I killed him."

Jack's eyes widen in horror and he involuntarily takes two steps back from Sam.

"You  _ what _ ?"

Tears form in Sam's eyes. "I'm responsible for your Father's death.“

"I don't believe that. Please say it's not true!"

"I wish it wasn't, Jack. I wish it so much." Sam sounds defeated. 

"Why?" 

The question is so simple, yet it means everything. Why? Sam has asked himself this question so often. Why couldn’t he have waited, just a few minutes.

  
  


The lights above them start to flicker and it reminds Sam in a scornful way why it happened. "Because I was reckless, I thought I had everything under control. Because I was arrogant, I felt so strong, so superior. Because I was stupid and thought everyone would be alright. Because I was..."

"Because you saved my life." Dean's words, deep and cold, drift over to them.

  
  


Startled, the two men spin around and look at Dean. He has changed clothes, the black jeans and the wine-red denim shirt fit perfectly. He was on his way down to the lower levels, where time is spent gambling and drinking, when he saw Sam and Jack outside on deck. One look into Sam's face and he knew what they were talking about. And Dean was horrified to hear how much Sam still blamed himself.

" _ Because you saved my life. _ " It bursts out of Dean once more. His own guilt that he's carried around with him since that day is bubbling to the surface like lava from a volcano.

"Dean…" 

Sam tries to take it all on again, but not this time. Dean's tired of seeing Sam like this. „Sam, it's enough.“ 

The past has connected them with such intensity that it often leaves Sam truly awed.. From the first second their eyes met, it was as if an invisible force was wrapped around them. As if Fate and her sisters had spun a yarn of infinity. 

And no matter how hard Sam tried to avoid it, Destiny would always bring them back together.

The wind blows stronger and whistles across the deck, and Sam cringes as he realizes how long they must have stood like this.

"If you're going to tell the story," Dean tries again, "then tell it right. We were all naive.“

Dean approaches the two men standing at the railing. "We were sure we had Yellow-eyes, had been on him for weeks." Dean goes on while Sam's jaw works. 

"We cornered him in a cemetery, fought his allied creatures, werewolves, vampires, lower demons. It was a war.“

Jack looks at them questioningly. Sam reaches behind himself and pulls out his dagger from its leather sheath. Jack looks at the weapon with fascination. The wooden handle is worn , but the blade is impressive, with four almost wavy serrations and an inscription that Jack can't read.

"This knife belonged to your father," Sam now explains, "it kills demons quickly and effectively. Dean's guns, all the bullets are primed to kill monsters. John's sword slips through a vampire's neck like butter. And I..lets say I know how to make a dagger find its target."

Sam places the knife in Jack's outstretched hand. Fascinated, he looks at it in the glow of the lights.

"Sam has a gift, though he often calls it a curse." Dean's stepped right up next to Jack now.

"When he concentrates, he can move things, like knives, But also hold creatures in place and freeze them for a moment.

"So, you're a witch?"

Sam flinches.

"No, I don't know why I have these abilities. That night, it was like I was on fire. We got separated, John took the left, Jim took the right, Dean and me together, right down the middle. The more creatures we killed, the stronger I got. Blood was on my hands, my clothes, my face, and I was high. We fought until no one was left alive except for the one creature that was facing us and we wanted to wait. We  _ had _ to wait for John, but I could not stop. I just couldn't stop."

"Sam, please." Dean puts his hand on Sam's arm, feels the hot skin underneath him.

"You’ve got to know, Jack, ever since John's wife was killed, he's had one thought. Revenge. He hunted, slept, ate, hunted some more. He's a great man, but his heart was broken. And he had only one goal. To kill Yellow Eyes and finally have his revenge for Mary. There's a Colt that John has carried for years,but this Colt only has one bullet left. The bullet that will kill this demon. And suddenly, we had a chance. This scum stood before us alone, no gun, no backup, and we thought, let's do it.“ Dean's eyes are also filled with pain now.

"He made us look like little puppets. In seconds we couldn't move and he laughed at us. He..."Dean falters, but Sam goes on. 

"He told me that he was waiting for me. ...for  _ me _ . It was all just a test. ...to see if I was strong enough, if I was ready for the great task ahead of me. And he was so proud of me. I could feel my anger growing. ...and stomach acid shooting into my mouth. I tried to free myself from my rigidity, but I couldn't fight it. All the adrenaline inside me, all my great abilities, they were of no use to me. This bastard just laughs at me and says that we will go now, that he will support me, and when the day comes that I will face my destiny. That the powers I feel, it was demon powers running through my veins like poison. And to make sure I would come with him, he would kill everyone near and dear to me. Leaving me with nothing left. No reason to live."

Sam looks at Dean and for a moment it is quiet. Jack swallows hard and tries to process what he hears.

Dean picks up the story again. "I suddenly couldn't breathe, it felt like someone was choking me. And just before I passed out, out of nowhere, your father was there. He threw himself against the Demon and plunged the knife into its side. The Demon was shocked, he hadn't seen it coming, but he caught himself seconds later and grabbed your father by the neck. 

It seemed as if the Demon was about to kiss him. But then… your father's eyes glowed yellow and we knew something terrible had happened.“

"The Demon had passed from its dying vessel into your Father ."

All three turn around in shock at John's voice and horror at his words. He looks years older, his eyes sad and tortured. His voice is rough and quiet. "I was driven back, too many enemies at once, fear and foreboding drove me on, but I was too late.“

He closes the circle and all four men stand together.

It is Sam who breaks the silence.

"The Demon, in your father's body, was coming towards us. He laughed at us. Then he stepped in front of Dean and started choking him again. I saw the life disappearing from Dean's eyes, and your Father's own eyes sparkled yellow with excitement.

„I...“ tears ran down Sam's cheeks. "Jack, I couldn't let it happen. 

Then it was as if someone shook your Father's body and the yellow eyes became your Father's blue and he begged me to stop him. He could hold Yellow-Eyes inside, but I had to act right then. I saw Dean dying, your father begging, and then I saw the knife on the floor and I... I..."

Jack starts sobbing, knowing what happened next.

"I lifted the dagger with my powers and drove it through your Father's heart. "Sam is shaking all over. The memory washes over him like it was yesterday. The wind rears up and makes the lights of the boat whip back and forth. Worried, Dean looks up briefly and exchanges a glance with John. "Sammy, it's okay."

"No, it's  _ not _ !“ Sam shouts at him and a light bulb explodes. This causes Sam to pull himself together. “Seconds later John came over to us and was ready to fire the Colt. But your Father was already lying there dead, with no sign of the Demon left behind." 

John's fatherly voice breaks the silence "You had no choice, Sam."

Sam looks at him, resigned. "Yes, I did." He's looking at Dean again. "But I couldn't face it."

John closes his eyes. From the moment Sam came into their lives, he knew there was a connection between Sam and Dean that went beyond anything he had ever known before. 

But back at that cemetery, he realized that Dean would sacrifice himself for Sam without hesitation and Sam would not let him do it for anything in the World . He could never forgive himself for coming too late and missing the unique chance to bring Yellow-Eyes to its knees. Instead, he looked at the body of his dear friend.

Jack looks around at all three men. He tries to feel something, anger, disappointment, contempt. But when he looks into the eyes of these men, he realizes that they have been carrying this guilt with them for years. And for once he can feel nothing but pity.

"Please forgive me, but I need a moment to process this."

Jack turns away from the group and walks two steps before turning around again. "Thank you, for telling me the truth."

John hesitates and watches as Jack leaves before he too steps away. "Promise me that this time we will not fail." With these words, he leaves the two young men alone.

Dean puts his arm around Sam's shoulders. Together they look out onto the river into the uncertain black void.

"Do you really think it's the same Demon ?" Sam suddenly asks. 

Dean has asked himself the same question over and over again.

"I don't know, Sammy. It doesn't make sense. Why now, after all this time, and why...?“ He suppresses the thought instantly, but Sam ends it.

"...Why didn’t he come looking for me? Maybe he's realized he doesn't need me at all?“

_ „Or _ , he sensed you were getting too strong for him. I mean look at you."

Sam smiles and Dean is relieved to see this little spark of hope in Sam's eyes.

Then Sam gets serious again. "You were the only one who ever believed in me. To everyone else I was a freak, something evil, a bad omen, but you…" he looks at Dean "You've always accepted me for who I am. You've always been there for me like my rock. I never had to pretend with you.“

"Then why did you leave?" Dean is terrified by the words coming out of his mouth, but once he speaks up, he cannot stop. "If you cared so much about me, why did you turn away from us? From John! From  _ me _ !" 

The last words strike like poison darts into Sam's heart. "Dean, I couldn't stay."

Dean pulls away from the hug. Four years of pent-up rage seeping through his body needs to be released. "Bullshit. I was protecting you. I've always protected you. And like you say, I've always accepted you! So mugs start flying around, so what? Or the time you almost burned down the cabin, when you were so mad at John that a log flew around, who was standing between you and John? I was. I was always there for you. And then something like this happens, and we're all down, we're devastated, and I needed you,  _ I needed you. _ And you just walked away."

"You think that was easy for me? Do you think my heart didn't break that day? Do you have any idea how many nights I've laid awake thinking about you these past four years? How many nights I’ve spent wondering if you're okay, if you're still mad at me, if you miss me?“

"Then you shouldn't have left!"

"But that's why I had to go!" Sam's words are filled with so much pain that Dean is left standing as if rooted to the ground. Thunder can be heard from a distance. 

"Because all the people who come near me die, don't you see?! You can deny it or not, but  _ I am  _ the bad luck that ruins everything. I was chosen by a Demon because he saw something special in me! A fucking Demon ! And I can live with all of this, Dean, with every burden that this crappy life has thrown at me. I'm willing to pay any price, but there's  _ one thing  _ I can't do. I can't let anything happen to you because of me."

The wind whips up between the two of them, Sam's desperation rages in the rain that suddenly breaks over them as if all those emotions are released like lightning from the sky.

"Dean, I'm willing to never see you again in my life if it  _ means _ you live. I can't lose you, not you."

The wind dies down and rain falls on them both, soaking their clothes, and washing Sam's tears from his face.

Dean looks at him, his green eyes shimmering like jewels.

"One thousand four hundred and thirty-eight." Deans says, finally.

His voice sounds fragile.

"What?" Sam looks at him, questioningly. 

"One thousand four hundred and thirty-eight." Dean closes the last distance to Sam until he is right in front of him. "The number of nights I've thought about you since you left. Because there hasn't been a single night I haven't thought about you."

He reaches up and cups Sam's cheeks and pulls him in even closer. The rain gets caught in Dean's long lashes. "And not a day will go by when I won't think of you, because -you see, here's the problem. I can't live without you either. And I don't want to anymore. And I don't care how many demons, vampires, or fucking Satan himself come between us, we will beat it.  _ Together _ ."

The rain's letting up, and Dean is running his fingers through Sam's wet hair.

"It's you and me against the world. It's what we swore to do, Sammy, remember?"

Sam nods and presses his forehead against Dean's.

"You and me, Dean, come what may."

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

The first kiss is tentative. Dean's lips are cold from the rain. Sam embraces his face and pulls Dean closer to him. His own lips are warm, and ghost over Dean's full lips. Sam turns Dean so that he’s pressing Dean against the railing. He plants another kiss on Dean's lips, then pulls back a little to look at him. Sam’s right hand wanders through Dean's wet hair, his left hand caresses Dean's cheek until his thumb slides over his lower lip. Dean opens his mouth under the pressure of Sam's thumb and instantly Sam presses his lips back onto his. Sam's tongue seizes the opportunity and slips into Dean's warm mouth. The wind picks up, but it seems more like it wraps itself around the two lovers, enveloping and surrounding them. "I want you, Dean." Sam breathes against Dean's lips and presses his entire hot body against him. "Let's get out of the rain." 

Dean can't remember how they got into their cabin. Again and again they stop on the way there, move into small, unseen recesses, cover each other's bodies with kisses.

Outside, the storm has gained momentum. Lightning and thunder rages around them. Almost blindly they fall into their narrow cabin. Once the door closes, Dean pushes Sam's body against the door. His hands wander over the wet, white shirt that covers Sam's body, but lets everything underneath become visible. "Just look at you." Dean bites his lower lip as his fingers run across the wet cotton.

Sam's shirt is torn and Dean licks his tongue across his wet chest, sucking on Sam's pebbled, hard nipple which shows through the soaked fabric.

Sam feels Dean's thumb and index finger as he touches the seam of his torn shirt and finally touches his nipple. His warm lips caress the other hard bud while the two fingers mercilessly knead the other through the fabric. Sam knocks his head against the door and moans loudly. His cock throbs in his tight leather pants. "Dean!" Sam pleads. Lightning flashes illuminate the small cabin as Dean tears Sam's shirt from his wet body and sucks on his nipple. His tongue runs over the small, hard bud, rolling it over and over again. His hands wander over Sam's tight leather pants, feeling the light trembling of the strong thighs, until his hand passes over the massive bulge between Sam's legs. 

Sam's hands reach into Dean's wet hair, pulling on it until Dean's mouth is back on his. Sam's tongue caresses Dean's palate, and while their tongues dance together, Dean opens Sam's pants, reaches in with both hands and kneads Sam's ass. "I want you, Sammy. I need you. I gotta feel you." The rain pours down against the little porthole as Dean guides Sam to their bed. Before he pushes him onto the white sheet, he strips the black pants off of Sam's long, muscled legs. Sam slides back onto the bed and Dean lights the little oil lamp on the night stand. He pulls his wet shirt over his head and strips off the his soaked pants. The rumbling of the thunder makes him pause for a moment, and he looks at the sight in front of him. Sam, lying stretched out , his legs open invitingly. Sam's hands are clasped behind his head and his chest rises and falls with rapid, excited breaths. His fattening cock lies on his belly, . 

The light of the small oil lamp and the flashing of the lightning outside makes Sam appear in a mystical light.

Dean holds his breath for a moment. Sam has always been beautiful, but this man in front of him is simply breathtaking. Carefully, Dean kneels between Sam's open legs. His arms caress the muscular calves, the firm thighs, and circle Sam's narrow waist. Dean feels his cock getting harder and harder and even Sam's is twitching with excitement as he slowly becomes fuller and thicker. 

Dean's mouth wanders along the inside of Sam's leg, kissing, biting, licking across the damp, salty skin. With his hands, he supports Sam's hips and looks provocatively at Sam, who has raised his head slightly to watch Dean and then opens his legs even further. Dean bends over Sam's groin and, with his tongue flat out, he traces from Sam's balls up his long, hard shaft, lets his tongue slide once over the twitching head, and dips the tip of his tongue into the small slit to catch the first drops of Sam's precome. Sam moans and his arms fall down beside his body, reaching to grasp the thin sheet. On the tip of Dean's tongue glistens the drop of lust he licked up. Dean's body glides smoothly over Sam's until he lays completely over him. Sam's pupils are wide and excited, he also opens his mouth eagerly and holds his tongue out to Dean. Only the tips of their tongues touch, sharing the salty taste. Thunder follows lightning and their mouths unite.

Sam's hands are moving across Dean's back, pressing Dean's body against him. Dean grinds his hips and their hard cocks rub against each other. Dean raises his upper body slightly, increasing the pressure and movement. "Sam...I..." After four years of hoping and yearning,. Dean wants to delay the moment, but to have Sam underneath him, to see the pleasure on his face and know that he's the one creating it, overwhelms him. Sam's mouth emits little sounds, music to Dean's ears. Dean's had sex, lots of it, but he hasn't made love. He reaches between the two of them and grabs their cocks in one hand. The feeling of holding them both, rubbing them together, sends him over the cliff.

"Sam, come for me." 

The candle goes out, but the sky is brightly lit by the lightning that appears just above the steamer. Dean feels Sam's cock in his hand, twitching and releasing. He follows right behind him. Both men’s come spurts onto Sam's belly, mix together , and run down in fine stripes. Dean grinds them a little more, not wanting to let go until his arm starts shaking and Sam moves underneath him. He scoops it up and lets himself fall onto the bed next to Sam, looking up at the ceiling. The rain has stopped and the rumbling can only be heard from a distance. The motion of the steamer swings the bed slightly back and forth. Dean wants to say something, do something, but his eyes grow heavy. He feels a kiss on his lips and has to smile. He sinks into a deep sleep, more peaceful than he has to in years.

  
  


When Dean wakes up, the morning sun shines in through the porthole. He's still naked, but is covered with a sheet and Sam's torso. He feels Sam's warm breath on his neck and closes his eyes again for a moment. He enjoys the familiar feeling of Sam’s body against his. As a teenager, it was he who held Sam in his arms. 

Dean turns his head back slightly to catch a glimpse of Sam. He senses Dean's movements in his subconscious and turns on his back, pulling Dean into his arms. Dean puts his chin on Sam's chest and studies the face of the man below him, while Dean's hand gently strokes the fine hair on Sam's chest.

Sam's eyes begin to move under his eyelids, and he finally opens them to look down at his chest and Dean.

"Hey." Sam's voice sounds sleepy.

Dean kisses the nipple right in front of him, which puckers in excitement from the touch. He licks and sucks it gently, feeling Sam's eyes on him. With a provocative popping sound, Dean releases the well-caressed nipple, "Good morning, Sunshine."

Sam's big, yet soft hand strokes Dean's back.

"Early morning exercise without coffee first? Who are you and what have you done with Dean Singer?"

Dean smiles, then his gaze rests on Sam's chain that has slipped over his left shoulder. Dean supports himself with an elbow and lets the leather strap of the chain slide through his fingers until he holds the small silver ornament in his flat hand. It looks like a cross or only the border of one; three ends of the cross are rounded, the fourth, which points upwards, tapers to a point. Dean has never seen this symbol before.

"It is the protective symbol of St. Cyprian," Sam answers Dean’s unspoken question. 

Sam clears his throat and slides up the bed a little bit, Dean moves his upper body down until his head lies on Sam's stomach. He feels Sam's abs tightening under him. 

"He is a patron saint of... mages... witches... people with special powers." Sam nervously chews his lower lip as he explains. 

Dean raises an eyebrow. Silence, though.

"I should tell it from the beginning." Sam smiles shyly.

"Only if you want to, Sam." Dean's head continues to rest on Sam's stomach, the fingers of his left hand caressing Sam's arm.

"After we-- after I left, I wandered. I just wanted to disappear. Took simple day labor jobs. I just wanted to be the inconspicuous man that nobody notices. Not a creep, not a freak of nature. Sleep, work, eat. Simple life."

Dean flaps his mouth like he's protesting, but Sam stops him.

"Dean please. I didn't want to be found, not by anyone."

Dean nods sympathetically.

"I never stopped reading though. Newspapers, books. I wanted to stay on top of things for one thing. Are there any references that point to Yellow-Eyes ? Is he still around somewhere?? Are there others like me? What does that mean... ‘magic?’ "

Absently, Sam strokes Dean's arm.

"I went to see a woman I had read about in a small article. A psychic. No, wait, please. I know what you're gonna say, but I can distinguish between a charlatan and a truly gifted person. And Pamela was such a person."

Dean's a little tense.

"Pamela?"

"Pamela Barnes. I traveled all the way to New Jersey to meet her. You would have liked her."

"When I came to her, I didn't know what to expect. What did I actually want from her? What was I hoping for? But then I didn't really have to say anything. I came in, she saw me, and we talked. Till dawn. I didn't have to pretend. She knew about monsters and creatures. Even though she had never met anyone with my abilities, I sensed she was going to help me."

Sam's palm wanders from Dean's arm down Dean's shoulder blade to rest on his bare hip. 

“I stayed with her for almost two years. Working in her drugstore during the day, learning all about potions and herbs. In the evenings she taught me how to meditate, how to open my mind." 

Dean runs his index finger around Sam's navel and follows the treasure trail down to his pubic hair.

"So you two were together?" Deans tries not to sound jealous, but fails miserably. 

Sam grabs Dean's hip, then strokes his hand across Dean's round, firm buttocks.

"No... no, she was a remarkable woman, strong, beautiful, stubborn, smart. I can't deny I was attracted to her, but no, we weren't a couple. My heart was not free, you see." Sam tries to smile, but his eyes betray his sadness.

Dean looks up at Sam questioningly. "You say she  **_was_ ** remarkable?"

Sam takes his hand off of Dean's body and clenches his fist. "Like I told her everything. About Jim, about you, about my parents and how I don't even remember who they were or what happened. She was talking one night about how she was gonna do me a favor and get in touch with someone. She wouldn't tell me where or with whom. She did these séances, claimed she could contact ghosts. I wanted to know if she could contact my parents, but she said she wanted to try it alone."

Dean feels Sam's entire body tense up. "What happened?"

Tears shimmer in Sam's eyes. "When I went to the store the next morning, she wasn't there. I looked for her and found her in her study."

Sam tries to turn away, but Dean holds him down.

"She was dead, Dean. Her eyes were burned out. There was nothing left but black caves. I... I'll never forget this sight."

Tears run down Sam's face and Dean slips behind him, presses Sam's back against his chest and rocks him gently.

"I turned around and I walked away. "I had to get away, just take my horse and what little I had and ride away. Days, nights, just always moving forward. I was at a crossroads one day and I saw the sign for Salem. I knew Pastor Jim had settled there and I went to him. He took me in without question. And I never told anyone about myself again."

Dean kisses Sam's neck. Caresses his soft, silky hair.

"I wish you had come looking for me."

"Every person I cared about was dying, Dean . Had I known where you were, I'd have ridden in the opposite direction."

The words coming out of Sam's mouth hurt Dean deeply, even though he's starting to understand them. Dean grabs Sam's cheek from behind and turns his face so they're looking at each other. He kisses Sam. Gently. "You are special Sam, but you are not a freak. You are different from others, but you are not evil. And I'm gonna prove to you that the only destiny I believe in is the one that brought us together. I got your back, just like you got mine."

Sam kisses Dean with unbridled passion. "Do we have to get up?"

"Not today."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

_ The Pennsylvania _ docks at the port of New Orleans in the late afternoon of the next day. If Memphis was a lively city, there is absolutely no comparison to this hustle and bustle. Dozens of ships are unloaded, and cotton and vegetables are loaded back on. It is swarming with people. Horse-drawn carriages whip through the wide alleys, and houses as high as a mountain rise up from the background. John is fascinated by the mix of different cultures that collide here. Modern meets occult, bourgeois business meets liberal entertainment.

Dean is overwhelmed by the possibilities that lie ahead, but also their dangerous mission. 

Jack is just plain worried. Up from the deck, Public Square could be seen, and in the middle of it, the cathedral that houses his destiny. 

And Sam… Sam can't breathe. It's like someone's closing his throat. Dark clouds are hanging in the sky, and he's got a bad feeling. 

They disembark, pick up the horses, and John and Sam study the map to find Burgundy St., the place where John wants to meet an old friend. They ride towards the Public Square and Jack can't help but stop, dismount, and walk along the long iron grid of the church. How can he go on? He  _ must _ get inside. Must get answers. Dean suddenly appears beside him and puts his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I know Jack, and believe me, I want nothing more than to get inside as well." 

Placards at the gate announce that the cathedral is currently closed to visitors, and all masses this week will be cancelled due to illness. 

Jack's getting nervous. "What if they're not waiting until tomorrow? What if they're already..."

"Jack, look at me." Dean grabs Jack's shoulders and turns him around to face Dean.. "I promise you that we will save her. We are here, we are prepared, and we are not leaving without her." 

Jack frees himself from Dean's grip and grabs one of the iron bars. "I'm coming, Jo!" He whispers, eyes wide and wet. With a heavy heart, he climbs back up and follows the three horsemen along the boardwalk.

  
  
  
  


Missouri closes the door of her little shop and turns the Open sign over to Closed. 

Even though she would actually still be open for several hours, she wants to take time for her approaching guests. The door that leads to her little kitchen is hung with countless strings of pearls that clink as she walks through. She puts on a fresh pot of tea and, because her feeling says so, also a small pot of freshly ground coffee. 

She takes the fine porcelain from the cupboard, which has been inherited by the third generation, and sets the table for five people. 

The apple pie, which has been in the oven for an hour, exudes a warm, familiar smell of cinnamon. 

As much as she is looking forward to seeing these four people, she feels the tragedy of their arrival. A sadness grows in her. Her abilities are limited and she is not allowed to influence events, yet she wishes she could prepare these people for what lies ahead and the pain it will cause them. 

All she can do now is wait for her guests, offer them a hot beverage, and give them courage. Because they will need it.

  
  
  


John knocks twice on the colorful front door before ignoring the closed sign and entering the darkened shop. The door was not locked, and the smell of fresh baked apple pie brings a smile to his face and almost makes Dean drool.

"How did she know we were coming?" Jack asks, and John replies.

"She just knows." He winks at Jack and goes deeper into the shop. To the outside, it looks like a junk shop, with theatrical advertisements for palmistry and fortune telling. But there's more behind the façade, as John has known for many years. Missouri has been his longest companion, and there is hardly anyone John has known and appreciated for so long. 

"You mean, no one else who's put up with you for so long." Missouri emerges from the kitchen to greet her guests.

John laughs while the other three men stare at him questioningly.

Each man is given a warm embrace by the friendly, plump lady. Sam bends down and is completely dazed for a moment as he hugs Missouri. As they release, she looks at him deeply from her warm, brown eyes. 

With one hand on his cheek she whispers, "I'm sorry about what happened to Pamela. But it wasn't your fault. Like so much is not your fault, Child ."

Sam is motionless for a moment. 

"Come on, you're hungry."

All five go into the small kitchen and take a seat at the laid table. Missouri pours them tea, and to Dean's delight, coffee, and then they enjoy the warm apple pie.

She feels the pure happiness pouring out of Dean and it fills her with joy that she can give these four men a moment of peace.

  
  
  


When Dean finishes his third slice and is offered a fourth, he sadly declines. They sit back for a moment and enjoy the taste of sweet pastry on their tongues. 

"I think it's about time you told me why you actually came here, isn't it?" Missouri looks around and John begins to tell their story. Jack adds details in some places and Missouri listens attentively before speaking up.

"We have noticed that something has changed in the Order. The mood has become darker and darker, and bad accidents have happened. I also have to inform you that Sister Ellen has passed away. They say she went mad and set herself on fire." 

Sam and Dean exchange worried looks for a moment and Jack is also visibly shocked. 

“It’s like a storm front is approaching. We’ve felt it for days, but can’t get a handle on it." Worried, she puts her cup down.

"The cathedral has been closed for days, even nuns and chaplains can't get in. But unfortunately they don't talk to people like me."

"We  _ must _ find a way to talk to one of them," Sam explains.

"We have to figure out where we can intercept them and gain their trust.“

"I could mix a potion that, with the right ingredients might loosen their tongues a little." Sam offers. 

Missouri adds, "I have many items here, Sam, I'd be happy to help you."

„I'd be very grateful. Now, where can we find a chaplain, preferably in a place where we won't be disturbed and can talk in peace?“ Sam asks.

"In a library?" Jack suggests. 

"In a brothel." Answers Dean, almost simultaneously.

Horrified, Jack looks at Dean, but he just shrugs his shoulders. "Sorry, Kiddo ."

  
  


Together, they get to work. Sam and Missouri prepare small flasks for the potion while John and Dean take the horses and put them in a nearby livery. 

Missouri takes Jack to the side for a moment while Sam seals the small bottles.

„I want to give you something“. She opens a drawer and pulls out a leather cloth. Wrapped in it is a fine, narrow dagger with an inscription on the silver blade. „The dagger was made from the same material as John's sword. It will protect you from all spirits and the undead.“ 

Concerned, but also fascinated, Jack looks at the gift.

"I don't know how to handle it."

She puts the dagger in his hand and Jack is shocked by the warmth it radiates.

"It will know," she says meaningfully, and goes back to the kitchen. "He's a good boy," she adds, as Sam closes the last bottle. 

"I hope we're doing the right thing." Sam looks through the oven door to the front and glances at Jack.

"Sam, your aura is stronger than I've ever seen in anybody else. I can't read you even when I try."

Disappointed, Sam looks down. "I know..."

"No, you don't. You don't know who you are, and your greatest conflict is with yourself. You must accept who you are. And you must open your heart." Missouri pulls Sam's head towards her and kisses his forehead.

"Trust him, Sam."

"Who?"

But in that moment, John and Dean come back, and Missouri turns her back.

They pack their bags to leave and Missouri takes John aside. "I need to talk to you, John. Alone."

John nods while the other three say goodbye. She hugs Dean and whispers to him. "I see your facade of humour and anger. You are a good person, Dean Singer. And you  _ are _ worth it. " Dean isn’t sure what she means, and pulls away from her grasp. 

Together the three young men go out and consider how they can win over a priest or chaplain.

"I'm still in favour of trying a brothel," Dean suggests.

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam replies, slightly irritated.

"Oh, come on. You got a better idea?"

"And how are we gonna do that? Huh? Bribe a hooker?" Sam's making bitch face number 12.

"I don't understand what your problem is. We sneak into a whorehouse, win the guy's trust, go up to a room with him, you dump the stuff down his throat and he sings like a bird. It's easy."

Sam stops dead in his tracks and confronts Dean. Nose to nose he waves at him.

"And how in the world do you think we get this close to a guy who doesn't know us or trust us? How do we get him to go in the room with us? How do you figure that, smart guy?

  
  
  


"This is by far the dumbest idea you have ever had. And you've had a lot." 

  
  


Sam desperately tries to loosen the tightly fitting collar around his neck. 

"Stop playing with it." Dean leans against the plain counter, whose wood has seen better days. He waits for the whiskey he ordered for the young chaplain who sits behind him on a plush sofa. Dean never takes his eyes off of him.

Annoyed, Sam purses his lips. "I feel like a penguin. We're attracting attention."

"One," Dean replies smugly as he turns around and elbows hisway to the counter. "Our goal is to stand out. At least I do." he winks at the chaplain. "Two, you wanted a chaplain, here you have one, and he's perfectly willing."

Sam's eyes sparkle with rage. Next to him an elderly gentleman holds a young prostitute's luscious breasts in his hands and whispers into her ear while she laughs, conspicuously exaggerated.

"And finally," Dean strokes Sam's cheek with his hand, "I look absolutely ravishing."

The bad thing is, Sam can't even deny it.

Dean looks stunning.His green eyes are bordered with black kohl. On his sensual, plump lips shimmers red gleam. His pale skin is covered with countless, caramel-colored freckles. Sam's gaze glides down Dean's body and hangs on the black fabric that dresses Dean. A black corset, made of the finest lace, wraps around his body. The lacing at the back narrows his waist. His small, dark nipples become visible for a short moment with every movement and the hard buds rub against the delicate fabric. Black satin garters hold up the fishnet stockings which cover Dean's bowed legs to perfection. The panties that cup his tight, little, ass cheeks are decorated with black lace and don't hide how well Dean is hung. 

And then there are the pumps. Black patent pumps with a heel that should make walking impossible.

"Where the hell did you get those shoes?"

" _ This _ is the part of my outfit you noticed?" Dean hisses at him.

Sam rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his whiskey. The guy next to him has another beauty in his arms. "I don't know why I even bother with you anymore." 

"If you must know, I asked Cyn and she asked a friend and her friend's friend..."

"Okay, okay, enough." Sam watches over his shoulder as the chaplain listens intently to the conversation between the two of them and the waiter finally gives Dean his whiskey.

"Thank you, Sweetheart ." 

Sam pouts. Dean sidles up close to him. Sam can't control himself and clasps Dean's corset, his hands moving over the laces on Dean's back.

Dean presses his lips to Sam's ear. "Tell me,  _ Honey _ , is that truth serum under your cassock or are you just happy to see me?" 

"You drive me crazy!" Sam carefully pulls out the little bottle and pours the contents into the glass in front of him.

"I should hope so.“ Dean bat's his eyes at Sam and swirls the glass to mix the contents. "I'm gonna go over there and I'm gonna flirt with him. That means touch him, and let him touch me. Can I be sure nothing will break, the lights won’t flicker, and the young man will not have a heart attack?“

Sam grinds his teeth. "Sure."

"Sam?"

"If he kisses you, I'll kill him."

"That sounds fair." And with that, Dean walks away from Sam, but, not without shouting out loud. "I'm sorry, Priest, but unfortunately you cannot afford me."

Sam has to watch helplessly as Dean approaches the young chaplain with provocatively swinging hips. Then he sits down gracefully beside him. "Here's your drink, Sweetie.”

"Thanks," the man replies shyly. "I wasn't sure you'd come back.”

"Don't you worry none about that Sasquatch over there." Dean strokes the man's short black hair. "I only have eyes for you."

Sam pulls at the white collar again, annoyed.

"Me. I'm a little nervous." The young man confesses.

"Your first time?"

"Yes, it's my first time." 

That's why I picked you, Kid. Dean thinks to himself.

Dean gives him his best smile. "What do you say you finish your glass and you and I go upstairs and get acquainted?"

"You are so beautiful." The young man runs his hand up Dean's leg. 

"And I'm all yours." Dean glances cautiously at Sam, who is about to rip the white ring off his neck.

"Your lips are so desirable." The chaplain brushes his thumbs over Dean's lips, who would like to send an impromptu prayer to Heaven if the situation weren't too ironic. 

The old bastard next to Sam watches what's happening on the sofa and nods to Sam, acknowledging Dean. "I'd like to lay that little whore over the counter and fuck his brains out." 

The glass in Sam's hand shatters and the two hookers jump aside in horror.

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and turns around. 

_ Seriously _ ? He asks Sam with his eyes, while Sam gives him a  _ The son of a bitch started it _ , look back.

The young chaplain starts to get cold feet and seems to want to leave when Dean pulls him close and looks deep into his eyes. "Listen Sweetheart, if you come up with me now, I will show you things you have only dreamed about. My tongue will touch you in places that'll make you think you are leaving your body and my fingers will do things to you that will turn you into putty in my arms. I'll give you such pleasure that you will scream my name, and after weeks go by, you will still want to compose a sonnet to my skills. So, what are you going to do?"

The young man empties his glass in one go. "Bedroom !"

"Good boy."

Sam watches the two men take the stairs to the first floor. He waits impatiently for a few minutes until he, too, inconspicuously takes the stairs to the first floor. Four doors lead off the corridor. One is open. Behind the other one he can hear the obscene laughter of the bastard from before. 

Sam carefully opens door number three and ... is not quite sure what he sees.

The young chaplain lies on the bed with his shirt undone. He lies on his back staring at the ceiling. Dean's hair is messy and the red lipstick smeared on his lips. Sam is about to explode as the chaplain stammers to himself. "I would have so much rather gone to sea. I love the sea, it's so liberating. You are so far away from everything. Do you have a horse? I'd love a horse. I always wanted a pony when I was a child, but Mamma forbade me to..." Dean jumps up from the bed and looks desperately at Sam. 

"Where have you been, Man ? The guy won't stop babbling!" 

"Oh, sorry, I thought I'd give you two lovebirds some privacy."

"Sam, this is really no time for a jealous snit." 

"Who says I'm jealous?"

"Oh, Man, you are such a jealous asshole." The chaplain's voice states from the bed.

"At least we know the potion is working," Dean notes amusedly and together they return to the bed.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed while Sam stands at the foot of it. "Say, Cutie, what's your name?"

Suspiciously, the man looks at Sam, but then he opens his mouth. "Constantin Ignatius Severin Cullnard." 

"Oh... Oh, well, that's a long name." 

Sam clears his throat. "How do we get into the cathedral?"

"Really, Sam? Straight to it, huh?"

"i don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

"The cathedral is closed. I don't like going there."

"Why not, C.I.?"

"The Bishop is mad!"

Now Sam is coming closer. "How's that?

C.I. smiles. "He thinks he can bring God to us. He wants to invite him. He thinks God would choose him and Pastor... puts these ideas in his head."

Outside a door slams and Dean winces. "How are they gonna do it, C.I.? „

"They don't say. Nobody talks to me because I'm too young," whines C.I. "They whisper of a ritual, there's a girl, she's supposed to be the key."

Sam and Dean swap glances.

Dean bends down to eye level with the chaplain. "C.I. I really need to get into that cathedral. How do I get inside?"

All of a sudden, the door bursts open and Dean’s admirer from downstairs is naked in the doorway.

"Oops, wrong door." He's just about to close it when he sees the scene in front of him. "Is this gonna be a weird three-way or what?" 

"Get lost, old man." Dean hisses at him. 

"Hey, buddy, you don't talk to me like that."

The man is about to enter the room when Sam stretches out his hand and the door slams shut. 

"There's no more time, Dean."

Dean leans over the young man. "Come on buddy, tell me how I get in.

"Through the kitchen door?"

"Where is it?"

"On the side wing, past the little stone path. That door is never locked for deliveries." 

It's getting louder outside.

"Sam?"

The little dresser, it shifts by itself and locks the door.

"Wow, that's pretty impressive."

"Yeah, come on."

"Where to?

Sam steps to the window. "Over here." He opens the window and the sultry evening air blows in. "We climb down the downspout.”

"In this outfit?"

"Dean come on, damn it!"

From outside, people are trying to open the door, and the door starts banging against the dresser. Sam is already out the window, shimmying the pipe, when suddenly Dean runs back into the room again.

He bends over to C.I. "Listen to your heart and sign on a boat tomorrow."

"Dean!"

"Just a minute."

"What more?"

Dean opens the little drawer by the bed, rummages through it until he triumphantly holds something in his hand.

"Ha!"

"You can't be serious!"

Dean quickly stows the small oil bottle in the cutout of his corset and comes to the window.

"You'll thank me later for this."

"I'll kill you if you don't come down now."

Sam is already in the alley, stretching his arms out to Dean. But Dean is climbing behind him like a cat in seconds.

"Told you, piece of cake."

All of a sudden they hear a commotion around the corner and they both start running at the same time.

"Piece of cake. That's a laugh."

They run together down the narrow alley of Lafitte Ave, their pursuers right on their heels. They cross the big Rampart Street and are almost at the height of Dauphin Street when Dean stumbles and starts cursing.

"What!" Sam turns around, angrily.

"I lost my shoe."

"You're serious? "

"It's a nice shoe."

"Forget the fucking shoe, Dean!"

Insulted, Dean throws the other one away, too, and they keep running until they finally hit Bourbon Street. In the turmoil of people, bizarre figures, and night owls, they dive in amongst the others and disappear into the night. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

They run through the streets of New Orleans. And the city takes them in, protects them, makes them one with the crowd. The French Quarter takes in anyone: Creole, Italian, lrish, Christian, voodoo, hunter, monster, soulmate. 

Hand in hand they glide deeper into the mire of the city that loves you just the way you are. Curious eyes follow the unusual couple, only to blur the trail behind them. A door is opened, no questions asked. The passage is narrow, the backyard dark. Behind the next door music sounds, a saxophone tells a love story. Rumors whisper through the corridors. Two souls, forever bound together by the bond of fate. Breathlessly, they close the door. The city takes care of them. 

Sam presses Dean against the back of the door.Lifts him up with his strong arms and feels Dean's legs circle Sam's hips. Kissing, possessing, grinding, Sam embraces Dean's laced waist, squeezing his body to himself. Suppressed desire burns to the surface. Their tongues join and speak the same language. Sam desires Dean with every pore of his body. 

And Dean gives himself to Sam. . Laying his head to one side so Sam can bury himself in Dean's neck. He gives Sam all of him. He's been Sam's from the first second he met him. 

"Dean, please, please." Sam begs into Dean's neck.

_ Dean, reread the story. Dean, please show me the trick again. Dean, please talk to me. Dean, please don't go to her. Dean, please kiss me. Dean, please just let it happen.  _

Sam puts Dean down on the bed. Contemplates the impossibly beautiful man in front of him. Sam can circle the Earth and travel the seas, his heart will always belong to the one person before him. He takes off the priest's robe while Dean looks at him attentively. Naked, Sam climbs onto the bed with him. "Do you know how much I want you?" Sam's lips kiss the fine thread of the stockings, moving along the warm skin of Dean’s leg. "Turn around, please." Sam's 'please' is Dean's command. 

Dean turns onto his stomach and feels Sam's hands touching his calves. Feels his legs open wider. Lust makes his cock throb. Dean moves his hips, makes them circle, and enjoys Sam's firm grip on his thighs. Sam's love for Dean is whole-hearted. Pure, raw, instinctive. 

Sam unzips Dean’s garter belt and slips his fingers under Dean's lace panties. Lower and lower Sam's fingers move under Dean's thin pants until they smooth over the tender skin of his balls. Dean moans and brings his ass up, needing more, more touch, more lust, more Sam.

Sam's thumb massages Dean's perineum while the other hand pushes the thin material to the side. Dean bites his lower lip and supports himself on his forearms. He brings his ass completely up and pushes it towards Sam. Dean moans deeply and is immediately rewarded with Sam's tongue, which laves his hole with gentle, little licks. The panties sit tightly around his hard cock and the fabric rubs against him. He feels Sam's hand massaging his balls, the other one gripping the panties, and yet it seems as if Dean's entire body is covered by Sam's hands. 

While Sam's tongue licks along the sensitive flesh of Dean's rim, Sam’s eyes sparkle. The lace of the corset rises as if by magic. Loop by loop, eye by eye, the corset opens more. Exposes more of Dean's light, alabaster skin. A tingling sensation touches over Dean's body. Sam is demanding, eager, and everywhere. With a last, quick movement Dean pulls the small bottle out of the corset, which he has secretly put in before. With the last loop the corset falls off his body. Moaning, he moves under Sam, while the tip of his tongue opens him. 

"I need you so much, Dean." 

"Then take me, Sammy."

Dean hears the delicate panty line rip, then Sam lies on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress. The panties are in tatters around his leg as Sam shoves his hard cock between Dean's crack.

Sam covers him completely and he runs his fingers through Dean's hair, pulls Dean's head back with his hand while the other hand moves forward and tweaks Dean's hard nipple. Dean is almost out of his mind, Sam's hands are all over his body, teasing his nipples, running lightly along his ribcage, massaging his dripping cock. 

"Sam, Sam!"

"I got you."

Sam reaches for the little bottle, and spreads its fragrant, oily contents over his fingers. He carefully opens Dean up, caressing him, worshipping his lover. 

He strokes the remaining oil over his hard shaft and finally, finally, after years of being apart from Dean--missing him, feeling only half alive, wanting to claim Dean's heart, repair the broken half of his soul--they are united once again. Sam slides in and out of Dean's body. They move in unison even when Sam increases the speed, pushing, grinding into Dean. Leaving bruises on Dean's hips and bitemarks on his neck. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, but  _ this _ night,  _ this _ moment, is theirs. 

Sam tightens his grip on Dean's cock and Dean thrusts deep into Sam's fist. 

„Come for me, now.“

Dean's legs twitch as he comes. His hole clamps around Sam's cock, bringing forth Sam's intense release. Dean's name on his lips, Sam pulses hotly into Dean.

Exhausted, they let themselves fall, body to body they lie together. 

They don't know what's to come, or if they will survive tomorrow.

But that their hearts belong to each other, that was never a question.

  
  
  


XXXXXX

  
  


Azazel looks up into the rising sun as Meg steps to his side.

"Is everything ready?" he asks her, kissing her cheek.

"Everything is ready, the ingredients are complete, and our  _ chosen one  _ is prepared by me personally."

He looks at her proudly. "We will do great things, my child."

"What about the bishop?"

"The Lamb follows me faithfully, hoping for the Lord's enlightenment."

"And are you sure all will appear?"

Azazel is looking through the cathedral window again.

"I will leave an unmistakable message."

  
  
  
  


Bathed in sweat, Sam rises from his sleep. He trembles, the images of the nightmare still present.

"Sammy?" Dean mumbles anxiously, and instinctively reaches for him. Sam's heartbeat calms down again. He looks up at Dean beside him.

"It's okay, it's just a bad dream."

He lies back, feeling Dean's warm breath on his naked skin. Sam's eyes stare sightlessly, trying to block out the images he hasn't dreamed in four years. Of eyes staring at him, yellow and cold.

XXXXXX

By day, New Orleans seems like a different city. Market women are busy promoting their wares. Bankers strut across the Decatur without revealing which lady has pressed them to her breasts for a few minutes. On the corner of Conti Street, a boy tries to earn a few coins by gambling. 

Everyone goes about his daily life, his own worries and hardships in his head.

Nobody pays attention to the group of four men who turn into St. Peter St. to save a human life. No one will remember their faces tomorrow. 

John goes out in front. His sword is hidden in a quiver on his back. If someone were to look closely at him, he would notice how dark the rings around his eyes are and how tight his shoulders seem. But John looks ahead. He will fulfill the mission that has been assigned to him.

Dean's Colt hangs visibly from his belt. His keen eyes catch every movement around him. He is excited, but also alert. Nothing escapes his gaze. Not even Sam's restlessness. 

A mixture of sun and dark clouds hang low in the sky. Sam tries to open his mind. He thinks of Pamela and what she taught him. He thinks of Jack and the promise Sam made to him. He glances over at Dean and they exchange a short, but meaningful look. Sam knows he can't fool Dean. But there's no going back.

Jack looks anxiously at the cathedral they are approaching. Only a wall separates them from the truth. Was it all for nothing? Will he be able to save Jo? Will he hold her in his arms again? And what will be the price?

At the corner of Chartres Ave, Dean looks around once more, and with a short nod of his head they glide through the hedge. The back of the cathedral is bathed in shadow. 

Sam has studied the structure of the cathedral and finds the described door leading to the small kitchen without any problems. Dean cracks the lock while John frees his sword from the quiver. Jack draws his new dagger and Sam puts his hand around the handle of the dagger that once belonged to Jack's father. 

The Little Kitchen is deserted. Bowls with leftover food are standing in the small basin on the floor. Dean listens intently at the door that leads to the inside of the cathedral. With a glance at John, Dean opens the door. A small corridor leads to other rooms, and a small, spiral staircase leads up to the altar room. Dean steps to the spiral staircase and looks up, he starts to put his first foot on the step, but John holds him back. Gesticulating, he makes it clear to him that he will go first and Dean finally nods. 

Jack walks last, his heart beating loudly and quickly in his chest. He can't see upstairs, the three men block his view. Nothing can be heard.

Are they too late?

The high windows of the cathedral let the light flow through the whole room. Sunshine floods the dark wood of the prayer benches through the rows. 

The four men encircle the pulpit, and despite all their efforts, their footsteps echo in the unnatural silence. 

It takes a moment for Dean to recognize the sound. Like a humming, flaring up, then suddenly it stops just to come back even louder. And with the recognition of the sound, he feels the taste of copper on his tongue. 

His stomach cramps up.

All four of them come to a halt and look at the altar in front of them. Jack is the last one to understand the situation and can't suppress a scream.

They've come too late.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Flies buzz through the sunlight and make shadows dance. Their piercing noise echoes deafeningly through the hall. They land on dead bodies. Seven of them. Draped in front of the altar to be found. Two nuns, a kitchen maid, a deacon, and three souls, who have sought help and comfort, and now deliver a message with their throats slit. 

Dried blood is all over the floor and Jack is vomiting. John sheaths his sword and walks closer to look at the bodies. Dean keeps an eye on the whole altar room. He doesn't like the situation. They're too visible, too vulnerable. Sam is stunned and prays for the souls of the people in front of him, as he is suddenly struck with a lightning bolt shock of severe pain

throughout his body. and collapses on his knees.

Screams, naked fear, and panic floods his body. He feels the life taken from each one. Hears the cynical laughter of the man responsible. 

"Come to me, Sam." Then he sees Jo, he sees the young girl, knows immediately who she is. A man in bishop's clothing holds her down. He is clearly insane.

"Save her."

The vision is taken away from Sam. His spirit flies through the city, like a bird he leaves the streets beneath him. A graveyard, secluded. Impressive are the sarcophagi and mausoleums. 

"Come to me."

Sam cries out. 

The people in front of him die, the pain stings his chest. Jo is afraid, big eyes begging him.

The door of a mausoleum opens, one flight of stairs down, he can save Jo. He reaches out his hand to her. 

"She needs you."

A red-eyed snake jumps out at Sam out of nowhere at Sam and bites his neck.

"Sammy! Sammy, can you hear me?"

Sam dies on the floor.

"Sammy, hey wake up."

He hears a voice.

"Sammy, please."

Slowly, Sam opens his eyes. He's soaked in sweat and can't move. Dean is bent over him, face covered in panic.

"Hey. You're back." Dean talks to him gently, strokes his hair.

Sam wants to lie still. But he can't. Slowly, he straightens up. His pulse is pounding in his ears.

"Jo is alive."

He hears Jack gasp. 

"I know where we can find her. We have to go." 

"What? No, Sam. Let's just take a minute." 

"No, Dean. Jo's out of time. we’re in the wrong place!"

"So, you had a vision?" John asks, crouching down next to Sam. 

What should Sam say? "Yes, and we have to get there."

Dean helps him up.

"Sam, I don't like this. It positively screams 'trap'."

"I know, Dean, but I've been running too long. Tonight, we fight, and this time, we win."

Dean looks over at John, and this time John can't hide the tense look in his eyes.

"John? Is there something you wanna tell me?"

John takes one last look at the dead in front of him.

"No, just that we shouldn't waste any more time." His eyes get hard and he walks right past Dean.

"I got a bad feeling." Dean says and turns around.

  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

The sun has almost set as the four figures enter the St. Louis cemetery. There's not a soul to be seen. 

"At least not a living one," Dean jokes, but no one really feels like laughing. They walk through the impressive tombstones and mausoleums of this city's dead. At first, the corpses were still buried in normal, underground graves. But after the great flood of 1830, the people were buried above sea level. Too great was the fear of a new epidemic, which began after the partially decomposed remains of the corpses were washed up and left to rot in the sun. 

It took them a little while to find the graveyard that Sam had seen in his vision. But one mausoleum stood out and should lead them on the right path. They returned to Missouri for advice. Sam describes what he saw to her. Missouri listens intently to him, making him describe his vision in great detail. She is fascinated by Sam's abilities. Dean, however, does not miss the look she exchanges with John afterwards. 

After they have told her all the details, Missouri is convinced that she knows the gravesite that Sam claims to have seen.

„It’s the mausoleum of Marie Laveau. She was revered as a voodoo queen. Citizens from all walks of life sought her counsel. Whether palmistry, occultism, or potions, Marie helped everyone, especially herself. She rose in society. The advantage of having the right people owing you a favor. And even more so when you know their dirty little secrets.“

"What's so special about her grave?" Jack asks, grateful that they finally have a hot lead.

Missouri looks at him with understanding eyes. 

"There are rumors about it. As usual with such a glamorous personality. There is a ritual to be performed at her grave to show you the way ahead."

"Can you teach this ritual to me?" Sam asks.

Missouri puts her hand on Sam's forearm. "Come, let me explain."

While Missouri explains everything to Sam, Dean approaches John. "What is it between you and Missouri?"

"What is what, Dean? She’s a good friend, and we haven't seen each other for a long time. And these are not exactly the best times for a reunion."

"John, I can see that something is wrong."

John's jaw is clenching. Then he goes soft for a moment and looks at Dean for a long time. 

"You've become a good man, Dean. Do you ever wonder if it's all preordained? That we try to tell ourselves we're controlling our lives, but the truth is, someone else is pulling the strings?"

Dean lets the words sink in. "No, I believe in defining who I am. And that I'm the one who decides my fate." 

John puts his hand on Dean's neck and pulls him close, forehead to forehead. 

"Good. And never forget this. Promise me. No matter what happens. We decide what we do!"

Dean can only nod, his mouth dry.

Sam comes back and they say goodbye to MIssouri. They can't help but feel the strange atmosphere. It seems like this goodbye is forever.

  
  
  
  
  


The first oil lamps are already lit and cast a mystical light on the white tombstones. Sam looks at the different names of the deceased, each one telling a long forgotten story. 

He wonders what will be written on his when his time comes.

Dean's shoulder digs into his side and tears him out of his negative thoughts. "Found anything yet?"

Sam shakes his head and lets his gaze wander. Then, he raises his hand and brings the group to a halt. "It's over there."

He points at the large mausoleum that stands almost directly in the middle of the cemetery. Carefully, all four of them sneak up to it.

Proud and impressive, the white marble of the mausoleum rises up. The building itself is circular. In front of them is a small altar decorated with the figure of an angel, and there is another one on the roof dome. John and Dean search around the tomb. White marble slabs, three piled atop the other, and six in a circle side by side mark a hollow space for the sarcophagus. Large, metal fittings are mounted in the front. A plaque with an inscription hangs on the other side of the mausoleum plates.

"Over here," cries John, and the others quickly join him. The three marble slabs to the left of the inscription look like all the others at first glance, but the floor is scratched, as if something heavier had crawled and clawed its way over it.

And on the bottom, almost invisible, there are three small crosses.

"Ready?" John asks, clutching the handle of his sword.

"Ready," answers Sam.

He pulls out his knife and cuts shallowly across his left palm. He stares at the blood pooling out of the wound. 

"Aperi mihi. Cupio attractio." He recites out loud. Then, collecting his blood on the tip of his finger with his right hand, he begins to draw the first cross on the white marble.

Again he repeats the words. "Aperi mihi. Cupio attractio."

With each cross he repeats the saying, until three blood red crosses adorn the white wall.

Sam takes a step back and stomps three times on the earthen floor. Dean grabs his Colt and holds his breath. 

One last time Sam says the spell before he begins to circle around his own axis, stretching his arms upwards three times as if to show that he comes in peace. Afterwards, he stops. All is quiet in the cemetery. Nothing can be heard anymore, even the birds have stopped singing.

A creak makes all four flinch. As if by magic the three sarcophagi move in front of them, become one with each other and act like a door, slowly sliding inwards and exposing a staircase that leads deep into the mausoleum.

Cautiously, Sam walks towards the entrance. At the top of the stair it is almost pitch black, but below you can see the flickering of fire.

He starts to take the first step, but Dean holds him back. "Wisdom before length," Dean snarks, slipping past Sam and walking silently down the stairs. Sam follows him, then Jack, with John at the rear. 

Slowly they descend, step by step. At the bottom they take a moment to prepare themselves. Before them lies a long corridor, which branches off to the left in the back. At the end of the stairs, there are two torches in cast iron holders. Dean and John each take one out and continue down the hallway in the same formation as they went down the stairs. They take the passage to the left. The ground is solid, and the walls are thick stone. The passage had been chiselled into the rock, but is so tall that only Sam has to duck his head slightly. Torches make the passages easier to follow as they continue. From time to time there are inscriptions, Latin, Italian, and English. Verses from the Bible as well. The next bend brings them to a problem. The passage branches off to the right and to the left.

"We need to stay together." John decides, turning right just as they hear a woman's scream from afar.

"Jo, that's Jo!" Jack yells, and runs blindly into the left-hand passage. 

" _ Or _ , we can split up and try to save the girl!" Dean yells over his shoulder, running after Jack. 

Sam and John take a quick look at each other.

"I don't like it," says John, but they both take a quick step down the right aisle.

Sam grips his dagger and John draws his sword, both ready for the fight. Together they run towards the uncertain goal.

Dean has caught up with Jack. Angrily, he pulls him back toward him by the boy’s shoulder. "Damn it, stop for a second!

"Dean, we're going to be too late! Please!" 

“And if we go in recklessly, they'll know we're here!"

They continue walking until they enter a larger room. As Dean waves the torch, he sees three old sarcophagi placed one above the other and set deeply into the walls. They almost reach the exit of the large room when they hear a metallic noise, and a rusty gate falls down behind them. 

"What the ..." Before Dean can react, a barred door falls down in front of them as well. Dean draws both his revolver and his knife. Jack has also drawn his new dagger.

"Okay,“ Dean tries to convince himself. “That could have been worse. We just have to get the door open or find the hidden mechanism." 

"Dean?" Jack asks, staring at his dagger in dismay.

"I'm almost there."

"Dean, weren't the symbols on the dagger supposed to respond to the undead?"

"Jack, this isn't helping!"

Jack looks anxiously at one of the sarcophagi whose lid is moving.

"Dean, I don't think this can wait."

"What?"

Jack is pointing to the second sarcophagus that's moving as well.

"Oh crap! Please no priest zombies, please no priest zombies!"

The lid of the uppermost sarcophagus pops open and a severely decomposed corpse rises. On his bony finger shines a bishop's ring. And the corpse staggers down to the ground. From the other coffins various undead creatures crawl towards them.

"Why didn't I go right?" Dean groans and fires.

XXXXX

  
  


Sam and John walk down the next long corridor. "We should have been out of here by now." Sam notices and points up at the ceiling. The structure of the walls above them is changing. The passageway becomes narrower and lower. 

Suddenly, the sound of a crying woman can be heard again.

Sam clutches his dagger. It was a mistake to split up, and he can only hope that Dean and Jack are safe. A restlessness is building up inside him. This whole scenario elicits memories from the past.

"Do you ever get the feeling you're walking into a trap?" John pronounces exactly what Sam is thinking.

At the end of the corridor a narrow, spiral staircase leads up. Slowly they climb the steps. Both men stop briefly in shock. They are in a side aisle of an old church. Sam can't remember seeing a church near the cemetery, but he also had lost all sense of which direction they were walking.

Hidden by marble pillars, they can see the scene playing out in front of them.

Hundreds of candles shine in the old walls. Bishop Vaughn kneels before the altar and recites a psalm aloud over and over again, while holding his rosary tightly in his hands.

The altar before him is decorated with flowers, offerings, and chalices. A large bowl stands on the altar. A younger Priest, obviously Father Paul, keeps throwing ingredients into the bowl.

Like it’s in slow motion, Sam perceives several things at once.

Just above the altar, the air seems to change. A flicker can be seen, as if hot air is blowing over the earth. Small vortices are created, and sparks are emitted in it. It’s as if a small thunderstorm is building up directly above the altar.

And in front of them, in the middle of the church, visible to everyone from afar, hangs Jo, dressed in a white dress. Her feet hardly touch the ground. Her wrists are tied above her head. Blood is running from a wound above her chest and dyes the cloth red.

Sam looks up at John, who pulls the Colt. They only have one chance.

XXXX

Dean blasts through the rotten bones of the skeleton with a swing of his knife. Before he and Jack lies a veritable mountain of bones. Quickly, he takes the sulphur-tipped matches out of his jacket pocket and rubs them over the smoky surface of the tinder sponge. A small bright flame is created and Dean lets the fire fall onto the bones.

"Burn you sons of bitches!"

Jack is sweating and panting, and Dean is also breathing heavily.

"We lost a lot of time.“ Dean notes angrily. Time that Sam and John could have gotten into their own trouble. Instantly he's at the door looking for a deadbolt.

"I really hope that night with the girl was worth it." Dean regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. It's the wrong moment, but he's angry, desperate, and worried about Sam and John. Oh, and yes, priest zombies are not on his list of favorite hits. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jack hisses at Dean and he too seems to lose his temper.

Dean continues to search the walls. "I'm just saying, I've had my fun before. Hey, it's all good, but couldn't you have just waited till marriage?"  _ Why can't he let it go? _

In a rage, Jack shoves Dean against the wall. "How dare you! Jo is worth everything in the world. Okay, we kissed. And yes, I was aroused while we did, and I maybe touched myself with her in my mind, but I never,  _ ever _ touched her inappropriately!"

Dean pushes Jack away. They need to stop attacking each other. If they want to get out of here, they need to stick together.

"I don't understand, John said that you guys... well, you know, dipped your toe in the water a little bit?" Dean wiggles his eyebrows like a peace offering.

"You take that back right now!" Jack yells back at Dean.

Dean stops at the gate. "Something's wrong."

"Yes, your idea of..."

"Shut up," Dean cuts him off. "It said in the note to you that Jo is the chosen one, right? The sinner who was touched by an angel?! But that doesn’t make any sense if you two haven't  _ sinned _ at all?"

Jack looks desperately at Dean. "What do you mean?"

Dean goes pale, his stomach turning into an icy lump. "Jack, who knew about you and Jo?"

"I don't know, we…"

"JACK," Dean yells at him, "Who knew about  _ you _ ?"

Jack's starting to babble. "We...we told some friends that we wanted to ask the bishop for his blessing. Jo was going to speak to him, but then she was captured."

Dean gets dizzy. How could he not see it, the whole time. 

"They knew about you. They knew exactly who you were and what you would do."

Dean begins desperately beating on the gate. He is almost beside himself with rage at his own failing .

"Dean, please, tell me what's going on."

"You still don't get it!“ He yells at the young man in front of him. “It was never about Jo, it was never about her, it was about  _ you _ ." 

Dean spins around, his green eyes flashing dangerously. A mixture of pure rage and desperation shows on his face.

"He knew if he played Jo against you, you'd do anything to save her.  _ Anything _ meaning you'll turn to your father's friends for help. Like lemmings, we fell into his trap! And now he has what he wants!"

Dean slams the gate. Tears of rage form in his eyes.

"The sinner -- he never wanted Jo -- she's not the  _ chosen one _ .

it's SAM !"

  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

‘Father Paul’ throws the last branch of myrrh into the golden bowl. Everything is prepared. Everyone is in his place. A smile appears on his face and he turns theatrically to the seemingly deserted church room. 

"How rude to hide in a corner and not keep us company."

Sam and John look at each other silently. They know it is really Azazel in a Father Paul meatsuit.

Imperiously, Azazel leaves his place at the altar. Looking tall he strides alongside the bishop and descends the three steps into the nave of the church. 

"Isn't she ravishing?" Smugly, Azazel moves towards Jo, who tries desperately to avoid him.

"Samuel, John, I insist. You two have earned yourselves a front-row seat."

He stops behind Jo, stroking her stretched-out back. Jo pulls at her chains and tries to evade the demons' touches, but he doesn't stop caressing her.

"Don't you fucking touch me," Jo yells. 

Jo kicks backwards, but hits nothing, desperately pulling on her shackles and screaming in rage and fear.

"Stop it!" Sam's deep voice thunders through the altar room. He steps out of the shadows and walks into the center aisle of the church. His heart beats forcefully in his chest. The man standing before him has nothing in common with the man who stood opposite him four years ago. But Sam knows at this moment that it is the same demon. All hope that it could be a coincidence, it could be another demon, dies as Sam looks into the cold eyes from his vision.

"Let her go."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because we both know you don't need her!"

Satisfied, the demon circles Jo to stand right in front of her and looks at Sam respectfully. "See, I always knew you were perfect. Strong, tall, and you're even smart."

"Let. Her. Go." Sam hisses again.

With a jerky movement the demon grabs Jo's throat and squeezes tightly.

"John, this is really starting to be rude and I don't like being made angry, so get over here or I'm gonna break this sweet innocent girl's neck."

John steps out of the shadows, his revolver cocked, finger on the trigger.

"So this is how you greet an old friend? I am offended." Azazel sulks exaggeratedly, but John does not think about lowering the Colt .When he realizes that John will not give in, his gaze changes to a cynical grin. "I really don't have time for this charade. We have a more important task ahead of us." With a single hand movement, the demon waves the Colt out of John's hand. The Colt scrapes across the church floor, sliding out of reach of Sam and John. 

Sam is shocked at how easily the demon succeeded in disarming John. Driven by anger, he aims his hand forward and concentrates with all his might on the man in front of him. He feels his energy surge and his power blasts out through the tips of his fingers. The small thunderstorm above the altar starts to pulsate. Wind comes up from nowhere and sweeps through the empty rows of the church.

For a moment it seems as if the demon really does stop moving. A feeling of power flows through Sam and he increases his concentration. 

"Sam! Wait!"

Sam hears John's worried voice, and too late, Sam realizes what's happening. The vortex above the altar sucks up the energy released by Sam, sucking it into the wind, and only making the cloud grow bigger. Sam looks into Azazel's face and to his horror, he sees nothing but satisfaction. With all of his might Sam tries to stop himself. But the energy was sufficient. The thundercloud implodes and collapses amid the sound of thunder. All that remains is a red, pulsating crack of fire, right above the altar. The crack gets longer and longer, as if one had painted a rift in the middle of the air with fire.

Screaming for joy, Bishop Vaughn jumps up and turns around. His gaze is confused and unfocused. "It begins, Father Paul, it begins! Soon, we will face the Lord." 

"What the Hell's going on?" John yells.

"Oh the irony in your words, John! I love it! And over there, the crazy one? This is my new friend, Bishop Vaughn.“ Azazel puts his hand to his mouth as if he were whispering. “He believes he'll meet God today.“ Azazel laughs mockingly, but the bishop is too far away to notice. Full of joy, he kneels before the widening gap.

“I mean, somehow I had to get him to give us this beautiful sacred church, right? And all of the other special ingredients. But I digress." He lets go of Jo and she inhales quickly and deeply.

John can’t move. Tense, he looks over at Sam. He seems to be frozen as well and, helplessly, they look after the demon who is walking towards the altar again.

Almost bored, Azazel goes on. "You four have cost me time. And dignity! Sam, I had so much planned for you, and then this disappointment." The demon gazes over his shoulder. "You can imagine Lucifer wasn't thrilled when I was sent back empty-handed. And believe me, the four Earth years here are nothing compared to the time I was punished in Hell for my failure!“

Azazel stops right under the crack and looks up to it with his eyes closed, almost as if he is trying to warm himself in the intense heat emanating from it. Sam is somewhat reassured to discover that the crack doesn't appear to have gotten any larger.

"And then, all of a sudden, I got a second chance. You can't imagine the enthusiasm with which people go about their work when the last decades of your existence have been nothing but torment, pain and anguish." He smirks at the two men. 

"All I had to do was set a course, spread the right information, and  _ deliver a message _ ." Azazel winks at Sam. "And here come the heroes to rescue the damsel in distress."

With a movement towards Jo, she cries out in pain again. Sam is beside himself and fights to break free from Azazel's hold on him.

"So here we are. Celebrating the rise of our Lord. Not quite the one our friend in black is expecting here, but what could I do? All I needed to do was to put a bee in his bonnet, to tell him that there was a way to bring God back to Earth. To honor those who believe in God and worship him. And of course the Lord needs a suitable vessel for that, doesn't he?“

As if on command, the bishop jumps up and runs towards Sam. His face is distorted into a grinning mask. "I will see him, I will see God, he will hear me, he will reward me, I will be his vessel, I will be his mouthpiece." The bishop claws wildly at Sam's clothes. 

Sam looks down on him in disgust. "You're crazy!"

Slowly Azazel steps toward both of them. He approaches the Bishop from behind, and while he whispers into the bishop's ear, his gaze is fixed on Sam.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned that, unfortunately, God doesn't give a fucking shit about his little sheep."

Irritated by the words, the bishop stares at Sam's chest until he looks up. His hands still clasp Sam's clothes and he stammers to himself.

"No, no, you are lying, God will come, God will choose me, you promised I would see God." 

Azazel pulls out a knife and slits the bishop's throat. Blood shoots out of his carotid artery. The bishop chokes to death on his own blood as his eyes turn to Sam in a panic. Azael holds up the dying man's body and catches his blood in a small goblet.

"And I always keep my promises, don't I, Samuel?"

XXXX 

"Dean, please stop. You're hurting yourself."

Dean is desperately trying to open the bars. Again and again, Dean hits the outer bar with the grip of his Colt. Every time he slips, the open wound on his hand bleeds more, but Dean ignores the pain. He needs to get out of here. And if he breaks his hand, so what. Blood drips onto the sandy ground. Jack is about to use all of his strength to pull Dean away when he suddenly sees a shadow from the side, and the typical black robes of a nun. 

"Dean, Dean stop," Jack whispers. "Everything's gonna be okay. Help is here.“ 

Dean looks up and sees a young nun coming towards the door. She looks at them both with a smile.

"Oh Thank God you heard us. Please help us!" Jack implores.

„Jack, stop it.“ Dean looks at her. His lip curls into a sneer. "That's no nun, Jack," Dean says, and spits onto the ground in front of her. "It's a rat." He grabs the bars and looks at her disdainfully.

"Christo!"

Meg's eyes turn black.

"You flatter me, Dean Singer," she whispers through the bars. "Perhaps I'll ask my father to let me have you. We could do so many wonderful things together." She licks her red lips. 

"Thanks, I'll pass, " Dean chokes out in a raspy voice.

Insulted, she takes a step back. "Now, I ask you to follow me. You can do this willingly and quickly, or we can skip to the part where I tie you up, gag you, and mmm…have my pleasures with you." 

"Sweetheart, I know how irresistible I am, but let's face it. You and I just don't stand a chance. So do what you gotta do, but you better do it right, because when I get out of here and get my hands on you, I'm gonna send you back to where you'll rot in eternity in the most painful way possible." 

Meg looks Dean up and down. "I still don't understand why I have to let you live, but whatever."

With a wave of her hand she hurls Dean across the room and into the metal bars. Dazed, he falls to the ground. Meg opens the door in front of her and struts towards Jack. 

"One move and your little friend dies." She picks up Dean's gun, which he had dropped. When Dean comes to, moaning, he sees Meg pressing his own gun against Jack's temple. 

"Well, where's your big mouth now,  _ Sweetheart _ ? Get up and come with me, or you can watch your own gun splatter the boy's brains against the wall."

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Azazel drops the useless, dead body of the bishop to the ground. Blood spatter drenches Sam's clothes. Disgusted, he looks at the demon. 

"Don't look at me like that, Samuel. You knew this day would come eventually. And is it not a glorious feeling?  _ You _ are the chosen one. The little boy who always brought bad luck can finally be the hero." 

"You and I have completely different views on the definition of heroism," Sam grits out.

"Why are you such a selfish brat? Do you not understand your luck? Do you not see your glorious future?"

Triumphantly, Azazel steps back to the altar and pours the blood of the bishop into the golden bowl as the last necessary ingredient. Immediately the gap starts pulsating and growing again.

Turning his back to Sam and John, Azazel looks up and begins speaking loudly and clearly.

"From the beginning you were destined to rule, Samuel, but no one knew what task would fall to you. We believed you would rule alongside Lucifer, that he would make you his Son. You would subjugate the Earth in his name. But then things changed, didn't they?  _ The sinner, saved by an angel. _ You will be the portal.  _ You'll _ be Lucifer's true vessel."

"No angel has ever touched me!" Sam shouts back.

"Then how do you think you survived? The little baby, helpless in your crib, while six of the most powerful demons were sent to kill your parents and turn you into one of us? There’s no way you could escape! And suddenly, out of nowhere, this creature appears, kills them all and protects you." 

"Th-this doesn't make any sense."

"I thought so too! Why leave you behind? Why abandon you after that? I watched you, growing up shy and weak, so full of guilt, and I knew I just had to be patient. That quiet little boy grew into a hero, but that's only half of it, isn't it, Sam? There's still more to you. Always driven by guilt, mercy, and compassion. Your love for humans betrayed you Sam, it made you weak. It made you vulnerable. You're the prodigal son no one wants, you're the black sheep that never belongs anywhere. You're the freak of nature that nobody can explain."

"Stop it!" Sam's voice cracks and breaks..

"Then defeat me! But deep inside you know I'm right! You and Lucifer are the same. Disowned and hated by those you were trying to protect. Misunderstood and humiliated. This is your destiny Sam, you're his perfect vessel. With him inside you, you will rule and punish those who laughed at you." 

"No." Sam looks ahead, challenging the demon's words. "No, I won't. Call me whatever you want, but I am not a freak. And I won’t give in.“ 

"Are you sure, Baby Boy?"

Sam spins around and sees a nun with black eyes and a drawn gun coming towards him, but it's the two people in front of her that cause Sam's blood to run cold.

The demon is holding Dean's Colt in her hand and pressing it against the back of Jack's head. Dean walks in front. His hands tied behind his back with one eye swollen and bruising.

Addressing Azazel, she explains, "there was a little disagreement on the way over here, but I think I've made my point."

"Dean! "Sam calls out to him.

"Sam," Dean's trying to get a sense of the situation as quickly as possible. He is standing in a very old church building. Right at the altar is a priest with unnatural yellow eyes watching him. Even more odd, the strange construct above him, which looks like a fire portal.  _ What the… _

John stands motionless and tense off to the side. In the center aisle, tied up with chains, hangs a young woman in a white dress.

Sam is standing in front of her, but seems to be restricted in his movement as well. Dean’s gaze finds Sam and what he sees in it scares him. Directly in front of Sam lies a dead man, presumably the bishop; a pool of blood has formed around his lifeless body.

"I leave you alone for five minutes," Dean begins, attempting a little humor to break the tension, before the grip of his own revolver hits him in the back of the head.

"Ouch."

"Can you shut up for once?" Meg yells at him.

"Bite me," Dean snarls back.

Jack suddenly calls out "Jo!" and tries to hurry to his girlfriend, but Meg holds him back. 

"Jack, Jack, is that you?" Desperately, Jo tries to turn around.

"Daddy, they're all getting on my nerves. Can I please, please kill them all?“ Meg pouts.

"Quiet!" yells Azazel, angrily. 

Then he looks back down at Sam.

"I distinctly remember a scene very similar to this one." Azazel puts his index finger to his lips as if he were thinking clearly.

"You and I, Sam, we're discussing your future. And this young man," he points to Dean, "stands in the way."

„Don't you dare to touch him.“ Sam's eyes flick between the Demon and Dean.

„You can stop it anytime!“ teases Azazel.

„Sam, whatever he wants from you, don't give in.“ Dean tries to get Sam's attention.

„Let them go, all of them. I’m begging you!“ Guilt built up in Sam, no more victims because of him, no more Death, not Dean!

"You know what you have to do, Samuel."

Sam bites his lower lip,thinking.

"What happens if I say yes?"

"Sam, no!" John's desperate voice screams over to him.

Sam raises his hand defensively. "What happens next?"

Azazel looks at him triumphantly. "My Son, I'm glad you're being reasonable. You say yes, Lucifer gets your body. You're still around, maybe you two can even form some sort of a commune. Talk about daddy issues, you know."

"Why doesn't he just take me when he wants me?"

Azazel sighs, "You see that's the stupid thing about these angels, there's always rules and rituals, and unfortunately one of them is that you have to agree, so? Make a decision Sam, and make it now!“ Azazel's eyes glow yellow, and Dean starts to choke.

"No, wait," Sam cries in desperation. His eyes look back and forth.

Meg laughs while Dean tries to catch his breath.

_ Please, someone help me, please, _ Sam thinks and looks over at John.

Their eyes meet and in that moment, time stands still. As if an invisible hand has stopped the world's second hand.

And all of a sudden, Sam is no longer standing in the old church, but in a small kitchen in the French Quarter, and he smells apple pie.

Missouri and John are sitting at the table. Neither of them notices Sam standing in the corner like a mute observer. 

"John, there's something I have to tell you."

Missouri puts her hand on John's arm.

"And I ain't gonna like it, am I?" John's voice sounds so tired.

"Let me tell you a story, John." Missouri pours herself and John another cup of coffee, but this time there is a bottle of whiskey on the table from which she also pours. 

"The provocation you speak of... The chosen one. There's another variation.

A variation that's been whispered through the streets for years. And you may or may not believe them.

There's a truce. A seething, stinking peace, but both parties are waiting to break it. Bored by the absence of God and the coward Lucifer, lesser demons and angels plan a ruse together. What if they put the Earth back into the focus of this circle. What if they force God and Lucifer to resume the battle they settled thousands of years ago?

And so they devise a plan. They're gonna taint a child, an innocent soul, with the blood of Lucifer. And that child will succeed where his father failed. To rebel against Heaven .

So six demons ride out to find a child and defile his soul. From the lineage of birth that is more innate to God than any other in the world."

John puts his cup down. "Cain?"

Missouri nods.

"Cain and his wife fight back with all they can, but the demons are stronger. They slaughter his wife, and then the broken Cain. They leave behind the crying child in the manger. The angels look away, all but one. One of the three sisters of destiny cannot allow this, to interfere so deeply with what is happening to mankind. 

And she appears before the manger, and protects the little boy with her life. Destroys the demons with her bond and saves the boy by giving him a part of herself.  _ Hope _ saved Sam. The boy who still sees the good in everyone. The little boy who always looks forward no matter what you put in his way. The last ancestor of the Cain tribe. Infected with Lucifer's demon blood."

Sam listens in disbelief. For a moment, it's almost like Missouri is looking directly at him. Then she takes a sip and goes on.

"Everyone is in an uproar. Heaven, Hell , they all deny being involved. Hope's sisters are beside themselves. But Hope remains stubborn. She knows what she felt, and she knows it was right. That boy is destined for greater things, but he won't make it alone. And so Destiny decides. She's always been the colder of the three. Where there's hope, there's Destiny's shadow. And where a boy's soul is changed, she decides and changes a second."

"Dean." 

"She causes Dean's parents to die and makes the boy watch. And when that pain nearly kills the boy, she gives him a piece of herself. Courage, selflessness, unbridled will. That soul is there to protect whatever it loves. Unconditionally. And now all these two souls needed to do was find each other."

John looks up from his cup.

"Me?"

"Don't some say it's fate that John Winchester twice saved a boy's life? You are their destiny, John, you guided them, like a father. You were the warrior, the fighter they both needed to become what they are today. No matter what you were doing or where you went, you could never lose sight of them, could you?"

"What to do, tell me what to do."

"Prevent Sam from saying yes."

"I don't understand?"

"You will, John."

Missouri takes another deep breath. "And when the time comes, protect them one last time."

"I will."

"It is time."

"What?" 

Missouri looks up in the corner where Sam stands.

"It is time."

  
  
  


Like a mist, the outlines loosen and Sam stands in the church again and looks at John. Both have tears in their eyes.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Sam, please."

"It's Dean. I have no choice!"

"Sam, it's exactly what he wants." Pure desperation is written all over John's face.

Tears run unrestrained down Sam's cheeks as he tears his gaze from John and looks at Azazel.

"You promise to let them go? Nothing will happen to them and they're free to go."

"My word of honor!" Azazel bows slightly.

Sam's making a face. Sam looks desperately at John. "Forgive me."

John can't look at him. The invisible hand lets Dean go and he gasps out a much-needed breath.

The chains holding Jo fall to the ground and Sam catches her. With shaky legs she runs towards Jack. Jack and Jo hug each other for a moment, then turn to Sam. "You can't give in to him Sam."

"I have to. But you're free." He grabs Jack and hugs him close. When he releases Jack, Sam grabs Jack's shoulders and looks at him. 

“Jack?"

"I understand."

"I'm so sorry, Jack."

"No Sam. It's okay."

Jack grabs Jo's arms and they walk by. 

"Aren't they adorable?" Azazel chuckles.

Sam looks over at Dean and Meg.

"Cut him loose."

Meg laughs out loud and pushes Dean forward. 

"All he needs to walk is his legs."

„Cut. Him. Loose.“

Meg rolls her eyes, but finally frees Dean, before she strides up next to Azazel.

Sam walks up to Dean. He looks at the menacing fire circle, then down at Dean’s wrist.

"Please go, Dean."

"Never."

"Don't be stupid, please go."

"So that you can say yes to this lunatic? Are you completely insane?"

"Don't call me that, Dean. Not you!"

Dean shoves Sam, rage and disappointment in his eyes.

"I'll call you whatever I want! And if you say yes, then you'll be what everyone has always said you were. That you're nothing but a stupid freak."

Sam swings and hits Dean. Dean staggers back and another blow from Sam hits him.

"Is that all? I got to say, I expected more from Lucifer's vessel." Dean is screaming at Sam in his rage. Sam concentrates and pushes Dean away with a shock wave and makes him fly halfway across the church floor.

"Get out of here before I lose control completely!" Sam yells at him.

Azazel is laughing hysterically and in that moment, John breaks free from his paralysis. He draws his sword and rushes towards Azazel. At the last moment, Azazel reacts and sends John flying through the room until he crashes into one of the church pillars.

Sam turns around and yells „Jack now!“

Shocked and distracted, Azazel doesn't notice when Jack reappears at the other end of the altar. Sam's demon dagger is in his hand, which Sam has secretly slipped to him. With a flowing movement he runs through the room, dagger raised.

But just before he gets to Azazel, Meg throws herself in between the two men. Shocked, she looks at Jack until her eyes start to flicker and the dagger, which is embedded in her chest, extinguishes all life in her.

Azazel looks at Meg's dead body and screams hysterically. "What was that, Samuel? A cheap trick to distract me? Who do you think you are? You're nothing, you hear, you're nobody!"

Sam proudly stands up to his full height.

„I am Sam Winchester, and I will not bow down to anyone."

Angry, and with sparkling yellow eyes, Azazel roars.

"Did you think the dagger would kill me this time? Have you learned nothing? All this for nothing?"

"Not quite, asshole!"

Dean raises his hand, aiming John's Colt, he cocks the barrel and pulls the trigger.

The bullet blazes through the air and explodes into Azazel's skull. He looks at Dean with a stunned look as lights inside his body grotesquely show his bones.

"No, no, noooo."

Like a stone, he falls to the ground.

Silence reigns in the great hall. Sam runs to Dean. He bends down, stroking carefully over the wound he has inflicted on him.

"I'm so sorry, but it had to look convincing."

"Pff. It's just a scratch."

Sam helps Dean up, they walk down the aisle together. Jack is with John, checking on him.

Sam beams at Dean. "You really did it."

"No, Sammy, we did it."

"I can't believe it."

"You know what I can't believe? Zombie priest! That was bullshit!"

"Zombie what?" Sam laughs as he hears John from the side.

"Boys, we have a problem."

The Fire Crack before them comes back to life.

"How the Hell do we close it?" Sam asks Dean as he pulls out his knife. 

"I don't know, I hoped it would close automatically when Azazel was destroyed." Sam shrugs his shoulder when suddenly they hear a shrieking yell, inhuman and shrill. Out of the crack a red fire snake appears and shoots out and wraps itself around Sam's leg.

"Sam!" Dean rushes to help Sam. 

"Get out of here, Dean. I mean it this time."

"No way!" Dean tries to hit the snake with the dagger but it has no effect, the snake clenches onto Sam's calf. He cries out in pain.

"Dean, take John and Jack and go, please!" Sam begs, but Dean just shakes his head.

"John, take Jack and get out of here. I'm not leaving you Sammy! You and me, don’t you forget! 

Another snake crawls out of the hole and Dean's getting ready.

With a guttural scream, John emerges from the side. He plunges his sword through the fire snake that grabbed Sam's leg. Twitching, the severed body slithers away before it turns to ashes.

The next snake body shoots out and heads towards Sam. 

John looks at both of them. 

"Take care of each other!"

With his sword drawn, John sprints towards the Hellhole, beheads two more snakes, and jumps into the hole. The hole pulsates and flashes until it retracts into a fine crack and finally disappears completely.

"No! John!" Dean's scream echoes off the walls. He looks at Sam in despair. Both get up and look at the altar. Everything is quiet around them.

"We've got to do something. Sam, we can't just leave him there." Dean falls to his knees and Sam is with him, tears running down both of their faces. "Sam, I don't know what to do."

Sam takes Dean into his arms, needs to feel him.

"We'll figure it out."

  
  
  



	18. Epilogue

Epilogue

  
  


"You really don't want to stay a little longer?" Jo hugs Dean tightly to say goodbye.

"No, thanks. Five days in the barn without moving is just not good for Baby."

"We'll miss you," Jo says as she reaches up to Sam to hug him, too. 

"I'll never be able to thank you enough." Jack hugs both Dean and Sam before standing next to his fiancée and holding her hand. 

Missouri has prepared a small bag of provisions.

"Oh man, if Dean gets any more pie he'll be too heavy to ride Baby," jokes Sam, and gets a punch in the arm from Dean.

"You two are always welcome." Missouri pushes the bag into Dean's hand and gives him a wink. Then she stands in front of Sam and he bends down to let her squeeze him tightly. He hugs her back as well.

"I am very proud of you." She whispers to him.

"Thank you. For everything." Sam tries to smile, but every now and then he still finds it hard. "I wish you could have talked to me first."

Missouri looks at him lovingly. "I can't interfere, Dear. Well, mostly..."

"But you talked to John."

She puts her hand on Sam's cheek. "I don't know what you mean. I was just telling John a story. It's not like you were there, is it?" 

Sam looks at her for a moment before she turns away.

Once more all five of them wave to each other, then Sam and Dean are alone.

They lead their horses by the reins.

"Soulmates, huh?" Dean suddenly asks.

They had talked for days. And at night, they had let their bodies do the talking.. 

"Seems so," Sam says sheepishly, rubbing his neck. Dean grabs Sam's hand and squeezes it tight. 

“What now?" Sam asks.

"All I know is you're never gonna get me on a damn boat like that ever again. I don't care if I ride for days and days."

"So, get this, there's a note in the paper from some place in Georgia. Three people have disappeared there in the last few weeks…" says Sam, and looks at Dean through his bangs.

"Well, then, I think we better go check it out, right? Just to be sure everything’s all right. Unless you have something else in mind?“ Dean looks at Sam hopefully.

  
  


"The thing is... neither one of us knows what the Universe has planned for us. And I think, until then, maybe we should do what we do best."

"Sex?"

"Hunt monsters!"

"Oh, yeah."

Dean leans over and gives Sam a quick kiss on the cheek, then takes Baby's reins and mounts up.

Sam also circles his horse.

"Maybe we should head to Georgia."

Dean steers Baby back to the main road. "So, of course, it comes down to this." 

Sam mounts up and turns around to follow Dean's gaze. 

"On what?"

With a grin on his face, Dean gives Baby his heels.

"Whether your mule can keep up with Baby."

"Oh you..." Sam clicks his tongue and gallops after Dean.

  
  


Missouri returns to her little shop. The sky is blue and the sun is shining. She turns the Open sign over to Closed again. She does not wish to be disturbed for her visit. She enters her kitchen with a smile. Maybe she should bake some cookies.

Her two sisters do so love sweets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Big Bang. If you like it, please be so kind and leave me a short comment or kudos. Thank you for reading my story.


End file.
